


Nearly

by gonattsaga



Series: A hundred and forty-two [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Blackmailing Blaise, Canon-Typical Violence, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Family Secrets, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Harry Potter was Raised by Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, Harry is sorted into Slytherin, Inter-House Friendships, Jealous Draco Malfoy, M/M, Marcus Flint/Adrian Pucey (hinted at), Mentions of Eating Disorder, Minor Character Death, Motherly Remus Lupin, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress, Puppy Love, Secret Relationship, Severus Snape cares about his Slytherins, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Umbridge will henceforth be known as either Toadface or Umbitch, also blackmailing Hermione (no really), alternative universe, but he's still the prickly Professor we all know and love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 434,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius doesn't go after Peter Pettigrew on the night that Voldemort kills the Potters, but stays to look after Harry... This means that he is never wrongly accused and incarcerated for the murder of Lily and James, and instead he and Remus Lupin raise Harry as their own. </p>
<p>When it finally becomes time for Harry to start his education at Hogwarts, he has no reason to tell the Sorting Hat not to place him in Slytherin, so he is Sorted into Slytherin and becomes best friends (and later on, more than friends) with Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this fic I knew two things: I was only going to change Sirius decision to run after Pettigrew, and all other changes after that would be in direct correlation to that one thing (e.g. Harry being sorted into Slytherin, because he's never met Dudley Dursley and so doesn't ask the hat not to place him in Slytherin) and it was heading towards a big plot twist at the end of year five. 
> 
> All major canon plot points that shouldn't realistically be altered because of Sirius being a free man, him and Remus raising Harry or Harry being in Slytherin, will therefore still take place (e.g. Triwizard Tournament will take place, but the DA will not)
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> Title comes from Harry Potter's first line ever in the books. (And also, what NEARLY could have happened.)  
> 

The last stragglers’ footsteps echo across the small square of Godric’s Hollow, and the triumphant yells and giggles of the children disappear into the houses with them as their parents close the front doors behind them. The flickering glow of the Jack-o-lanterns spills out of their front gates and makes the leaves scattered on the pavement look ablaze, the only source of light in the small village after the last window goes dark. 

 

Everything is silent, almost eerily so… Until suddenly a faint wailing cuts through the quiet.  

 

A muffled motor soon joins in, like some growling harmony to the broken cry and as the Disillusionment Charm is lifted from the motorcycle, the revving engine grows louder abruptly, before it’s extinguised entirely. 

 

Sirius jumps off the bike and leads it the last few hundred metres down the side street, not wanting to wake up the entire village by flying the bike all the way into James and Lily’s front yard — again — remembering Lily’s anger the last time he’d done so and woken up young Harry, whom the redhead had _just_ managed to get to bed apparently… Sirius smiles wryly to himself. Although he can think of quite a number of things he prefers over being on the receiving end of Lily Potter’s wrath, the memory is still a fond one.

 

The smile fades quickly however as he becomes aware of the wailing noise… _It sounds like an animal in pain_ , he thinks — and then he sees it…

 

His heart lurches and ripples of cold run over his skin as he stares in horror at his friends’ house; all the lights are out despite their plans to get together, and the ceiling has collapsed.

 

_No_ , Sirius thinks weakly, barely aware of the motorcycle slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground with a deafening crash. 

 

_No, no, no, no —_

 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Sirius is running. His heart is lodged in his throat, making it almost impossible to breathe, but he doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter — he needs to get to —

 

Wrenching the front door open, Sirius hurtles inside. But he has barely stumbled across the threshold, when the sight of his best friend — _his best friend’s lifeless body_ — sprawled on the floor at the foot of the stairs has knocked him back again and he falls back against the doorframe with such force he hits the back of his head with a worryingly loud _crack_. For a moment, white dots explode in his eyes, but he blinks them away quickly.

 

The wailing has quieted down and been replaced by tiny gasps and sobs. It’s coming from the top floor, and it’s the thought of Lily and Harry that finally manages to shake Sirius back into action. He heaves a couple of desperate breaths, then forces himself to stagger into the house. He sidesteps James’ body and tumble up the stairs. 

 

The sobbing is coming from Harry’s room, Sirius realises with a sickening jolt. He staggers down the hall, an ice-cold hand gripping his heart in a tight fist… and finally he reaches the door, that appears to have been blasted off its hinges… 

 

His heart gives another painful leap, despite the death grip squeezing it together, and all thought leave Sirius as he stares in horror at the scene before him — 

 

There’s a ringing in his ears and the wand almost slips from his grip, he is shaking so violently — and when did he draw his wand anyway? _Doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore,_ he thinks wildly, the Unforgivable building up inside him as he raises the wand higher, it’s trembling tip aimed squarely at the man’s heart —

 

_Snivellus — Death Eater — kill him_ , Sirius thinks wildly and bellows, ”Get your filthy hands OFF HER!”

 

Severus Snape startles and stares up at Sirius. The anguised look on his face morphs into a hideous grimace of pure rage, and although his eyes are swollen and raw from crying, they flash darkly… He lets Lily — _Lily’s body_ — slip from his embrace as he scrambles to his feet and draws his own wand —

 

” _You_ —!” He gasps. ” _You dare_ — come here — I’’ll — I’ll kill you —!”

 

He makes a slashing move with his wand, but before the curse has left his mouth, Sirius has shouted ” _Protego!_ ”

 

”I dare —? _I_ DARE?” he bellows incredulously. ”YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS! _Stupify!_ ”

 

Severus throws himself to the side, the hex missing him by inches.

 

”I LOVED HER!” he bellows back, some colour now returning to his pale cheeks. ”I tried to _save_ — Dumbledore said — he _promised me_ —!”

 

”What?” Sirius cries, his mind whirring. ”Dumbledore? But — _Oh_ —” 

 

_Peter,_ Sirius realises and feels like someone has doused him in ice water.

 

” _Sectum—!_ ” Severus cries and makes a slashing movement with his wand. 

 

” _Protego!_ ” Sirius shouts. 

 

” _Cruci_ —!”

 

” _Expelliarmus!_ ”

 

”FIGHT BACK YOU COWARD!” Severus cries, lunging after his wand as he goes flying out of his hand and manages to snatch it out of the air before it reaches Sirius. 

 

” _Coward?_ I don’t have time to waste on _you, Snivellus_!” Sirius spits and stumbles back towards the broken doorway, his mind whirling, _Peter betrayed them, Peter betrayed them all_. ”I have to — Peter — I can’t believe —”

 

” _Pettigrew?_ ” Severus says incredulously. ”You mean to tell me —?”

 

”Shut up!” Sirius bellows. ”I’ll — I’ll kill him… I’LL KILL HIM —!”

 

Without as much as a glance back at Snape, Sirius bolts out of the room again. He thunders down the stairs, baby Harry’s renewed cries barely registering as he leaps over the dead body of his best friend and crashes into the wall next to the front door. 

 

”Black! BLACK —!” Severus Snape’s slightly panicked voice reaches him, just as he’s about to wrench the door open. ”Don’t even think about leaving the boy with me —!”

 

_The boy_ , Sirius thinks and grabs the door handle for support as his mind reels, making him slightly dizzy. _Harry…_

 

”BLACK! I’M SERIOUS, YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!” Snape screams as he comes pelting down the stairs. ”I am _not_ looking after him! I need to go see Dumbledore —!”

 

Without waiting to see whether Sirius will indeed stay with Harry, Snape shoves him roughly aside and disappears out the front door. 

 

Harry’s gurgling wails from the top floor is the only thing in the eerie silence of the house that cuts through the ominous tattoo of Sirius heartbeat and the obsessed inner mantra of _Kill Peter, Kill Peter, Kill Peter_

 

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Sirius forces himself to calm down enough to go back up the stairs. He hesitates for a moment outside the door to Harry’s room, not sure how he’s supposed to be able to walk inside and face Lily’s vacant, dead face once more… But Harry’s cries seem to pull on him, and finally he stumbles inside. 

 

Lifting the small boy from his crib and cradling him to his chest, Sirius swallows down the lump in his throat and hushes him gently, finding that it soothes himself almost as much as it seems to soothe the boy, who eventually falls back asleep with his tear-streaked face pressed against his Godfather’s chest. 

 

For a moment, the prospect of the future crashes down on Sirius like a monstrous tidal wave and he wonders desperately how he is going to break all this to Remus… But as he looks down into the sleeping face of Harry, and the thin cut on his forehead shaped like a lightening bolt, he knows that whatever else happens, he will devote the rest of his life to taking care of this boy.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been ten years...

_”Wait, wait, I forgot the chocolate —”_

 

_”Moony, just leave it —”_

 

_”Shh — you’ll wake him up —!”_

 

Harry Potter smiles to himself as his fathers’ muffled voices can be heard from the other side of the door and he wriggles back under the duvet and burrows his face into his pillow, squinting one eye open until he can see the doorhandle turn and then he quickly pretends to be asleep. 

 

”Okay, ready?” Remus Lupin whispers. 

 

There is a small pause, and then both wizards begin to belt out the first slightly-off-tune bars of _Happy Birthday To You_ and Harry allows the grin to stretch his face once more, then makes a show of stretching and blinking his eyes open. 

 

Sirius’s singing morphs into a bark of laughter and he squeezes down next to Harry on the bed and proceeds to ruffle his already messy hair. Remus finishes the song by himself and then levitates the cake to hover in mid-air in front of Harry so that he can blow out the eleven candles. 

 

Both men clap their hands and Sirius slings an arm around Harry to hug him close to his side. Harry beams up at him happily, although without his glasses on Sirius is only a blurry blob, but there’s still no mistaking the brilliant glint of his teeth as he grins back. 

 

Remus carefully levitates the cake to balance on top of Harry’s dresser and then leans over to give the boy a hug, kissing him fondly on the cheek before retreating again. 

 

”Eleven years”, he mumbles. ”Can hardly believe it…”

 

”Yeah, our boy’s got big”, Sirius agrees and hands Harry his glasses. ”Go on, runty, open your presents!”

 

”Sirius”, Remus admonishes seriously. ”Don’t call him that!”

 

”I’m not that short for my age”, Harry protests feebly, but the small pile of presents at the foot of the bed is already stealing his attention and he eagerly scrambles over to rip into the first one. 

 

”Of course you’re not”, Remus says, then throws Sirius a warning glare. 

 

Sirius only grins back, ”Nothing wrong with being the runt of the litter—”

 

”There’s no litter!” Remus snaps. ”Now stop it, or he’s going to think you’re serious and develop insecurities…”

 

”All right, all right”, Sirius says. ”I’m only teasing, Harry.”

 

”I know”, Harry says and smiles at him over his shoulder, ” _Whoa!_ ”

 

Harry stares in wonder at the broomstick-shaped present at the bottom of the pile, then turns his wide-eyed stare on his fathers. 

 

”You haven’t even opened it yet”, Sirius says with a grin. 

 

Harry shakes himself out of his shock and immediately starts tearing the wrapping paper off, gasping as the brand new broom is revealed to be the new Nimbus 2000 and lets out a delighted squeal, before launching himself at Sirius who laughs as he hugs him back, ”I think he likes it!”

 

”Thank you, thank you —!” Harry yells happily and launches himself at Remus in turn. ”Thank you so much!”

 

”You’re welcome, Harry”, Remus says fondly and hugs him back. 

 

”But — ” Harry starts, then immediately cuts himself off, and looks guiltily between his two fathers. 

 

”But?” Sirius prompts and smiles kindly at him. 

 

Harry looks down at the brand new broomstick and fingers the golden letters morosely, ”But the letter from Hogwarts said —”

 

”First-years aren’t allowed their own broomsticks?” Sirius supplies for him and Harry nods miserably. ”Well, you’ll just have to be extra careful to keep yours a secret then, won’t you?”

 

Harry looks up with a soft gasp, barely daring to hope… Sirius grins at him, and Remus gives him a pinched smile as well when Harry turns to him, but there was no mistaking the stern glance he gave his husband just before and Harry realises his daddy didn’t like the idea of Harry breaking a school rule at all, but that his dad must have somehow convinced him to get the broom for him anyway.

 

”There is one more present for you as well”, Remus says, changing the subject. ”When you and I go to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies, you may choose a pet to take with you to Hogwarts.”

 

”Really?” Harry says excitedly. ”I can choose whatever I want?”

 

”Well, you remember what the letter from Hogwarts said —?”

 

”Yeah, I know, I know!” Harry says quickly. ”No hippogriffs or dragons, I get it!”

 

Remus rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face remains stubbornly in place, even though he tries to smooth it out, ”I swear, you become more and more like your dad every day…”

 

”You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Sirius says and loops his arm around Remus’s waist to pull him closer, and plants a quick kiss on his lips before letting him go again. 

 

”Dad…” Harry moans and slaps a hand over his eyes. 

 

”Come on”, Remus says. ”We’ll eat the cake in the kitchen — I’ve made some hot chocolate, as well…”

 

”Coffee for me”, Sirius says and gets to his feet, his arm automatically shooting out to catch Harry when he trips over the duvet and almost falls face first to the floor. ”Careful… Maybe it’s time you start drinking coffee, as well…”

 

”I doubt that’s the answer”, Remus mutters. ”How you can be so graceful in the air, Harry, is beyond me…”

 

”He doesn’t need to use his two left feet when he’s flying”, Sirius says. ”Come on, runt…”

 

They have birthday cake for breakfast, Harry and Remus washing it down with strong hot chocolate and Sirius rolling his eyes at them fondly while nursing his cup of black coffee. 

 

”Well, Moony, I really should get going”, he says after glancing at the clock. ”Croaker will have my head if I’m late again… Harry, I’ll try and get back in time for your birthday dinner, but I might need to go — well — I _might_ not get back until late, in which case I promise to look in on you and say good night.”

 

”Okay, I understand”, Harry says and nods, trying to smile encouragingly so his disappointment won’t show. 

 

”But I’ll try my hardest to make it back in time”, Sirius says again and strokes the side of his head gently. 

 

”Just be safe”, Remus intones. ”We’ll still be here waiting for you tomorrow, so there’s no need to get careless.”

 

Sirius says nothing, just smiles and leans in to peck his husband on the side of the mouth. 

 

”Go”, Remus mutters. ”We’ll see you when we see you…”

 

Sirius curls his arm around him and pulls him into a quick hug, murmuring something that sounds like _I love you_ into his shoulder before pulling back again and giving Harry a hug as well. 

 

 

*

 

”Here we are, the Leaky Cauldron”, Remus says and steers Harry towards a tiny, grubby-looking pub squeezed in between a record shop and a bookstore and Harry blinks in the sudden dimness once inside. 

 

The pub is almost dark, lit only by a few candles and for a famous place, which apparently it is, because Harry remembers both his fathers talking about it on several occasions even if they’ve never brought him along before now, it’s very shabby. He steps a little closer to Remus subconsciously searching out the sense of security from the man’s warmth and smell. Remus smiles down at him gently and puts a comforting hand on his back, steering him passed a small group of old witches drinking sherry and up to the bar where a little man in a top hat is conversing with the old barman — or they were conversing at least, except at the sight of Harry, they both fall silent… in fact, Harry notices, the entire pub seems to have gone still and silent, and every eye is on him. Remus hand rubs tiny circles over his back and Harry relaxes a little, but not nearly enough. 

 

”Good Lord”, the barman says in a breathless wheeze. ”Is this — can this be —?”

 

”Good afternoon”, Remus says politely.

 

”But bless my soul, it’s… _Harry Potter_!”

 

”Yes”, Remus says patiently, hugging Harry to his side in an unconscious display of protectiveness and Harry willingly snuggles closer. ”It is. And we wish to access Diagon Alley, if you please.”

 

”Ah, yes, of course”, the old barman says, stumbling to a halt halfway around the bar, suddenly aware that Harry had shrunk back to hide behind his father. ”I’m sorry, I only meant — it’s such an honour —!”

 

”Of course”, Remus says calmly. ”But I’m afraid Harry is a little shy. If you wouldn’t mind…”

 

”Ah, yes, of course, of course…” the barman says, looking a little flustered and quickly moves back behind the bar again. 

 

A pale young man wearing a weird, purple turban suddenly moves out into the dim candle-light from a shadowed corner, wringing his hands nervously, one of his eyes twitching. 

 

”P-Potter!” he stammers. ”I c-c-can’t tell you how p-p-pleased I am t-to meet you!”

 

”Professor Quirrel, isn’t it?” Remus says and extends his hand for the other man to shake, and he does after a brief moment of hesitation. ”Harry, Professor Quirrel will be your Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.”

 

”N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” Quirrel says and laughs nervously. 

 

Harry looks up at Remus uncertainly, and notices the smile on his face looks a bit forced now. 

 

”Yes, well”, he says swiftly. ”We must be going — lots to buy, you know!”

 

”Oh of c-course”, Quirrell says with a slight nod. ”I’ve g-g-got to pick up a new b-book on vampires m-myself…”

 

He trails off, looking slightly terrified at the idea and Harry feels a stab of pity for some reason. How someone as scared-looking as Quirrel could have become a Master of Defence Against The Dark Arts, he can’t understand. Glancing at his daddy again, he detects a similar look of pity on the man’s face and hides a smile when he offers Quirrel a rather gentle smile and bids him a good afternoon. 

 

”Come on, Harry”, he adds and steers Harry towards the opposite corner and through a small doorway leading into the back of the pub. 

 

”Is he always that nervous?” Harry asks quietly and Remus chuckles. ”Yeah, ’fraid so… He’s got a brilliant mind, so they say. As long as he was just learning about the Dark Arts through books, he was fine. But then he took a year off to get some real, first-hand experience and he’s never been quite the same…”

 

”Why, what happened to him?” 

 

”They say he met some vampires in the Black Forest. I don’t know. It’s probably just rumours and gossip. I’m sure he’s an excellent teacher. Now —”

 

Harry stumbles over the threshold and blinks in the sudden daylight as they enter a small, walled courtyard behind the pub. There is nothing here except a dustbin and some weeds. Harry looks at Remus again, who simply smiles back and continues to steer him over to one of the walls. 

 

”Stand back, Harry, there’s a good lad…” Remus says and gets his wand out. 

 

Harry watches eagerly as his daddy taps the wall three times and gasps in astonishment as the brick quivers suddenly then begins to wriggle. Before he knows it, the entire wall is rearranging itself, creating a hole in the middle of it that keeps growing larger and larger until they’re staring at an archway leading to a cobbled street on the other side. 

 

”Wow…” Harry breathes. 

 

”Come on”, Remus says and steers him through the archway and round the corner. 

 

Harry gasps again as Diagon Alley finally comes into view. He has always wanted to come here, but his fathers have always given him vague excuses. After experiencing The Leaky Cauldron, Harry now has some idea of why and feels a little more understanding, but all the same… He is finally here! 

 

He stares in wide-eyed excitement at the different shop windows, the glimmer of a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop catching his attention. 

 

”Yeah, you’ll be needing a cauldron”, Remus says. ”Come on…”

 

”Won’t we need to go to Gringotts first?” Harry says hopefully, wanting to see the Wizarding Bank with his own eyes, the goblins who run it in particular, but Remus shakes his head and steers him over to the cauldron shop instead. 

 

”Your dad went and made a withdrawal yesterday, to save us some time”, Remus says. ”Do you have your list?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles and gets the Hogwarts letter from his inside pocket and unfolds the second piece of paper. ”Ehm it just says _’1 cauldron, pewter standard size 2’_ …”

 

”All right —”

 

”Standard size 2, you say?” an elderly witch says in a boomingly loud voice from behind the counter as they enter the tiny shop. ”First Year Student, I take it? Well, I have just the cauldron for you, if you’ll follow me…”

 

After the old witch has handed Harry his first cauldron and Remus has paid for it, they make their way out into the cobbled street again. Remus squints in the sunlight and looks across the street to a shop called _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions_. 

 

”We might as well get your school robes, Harry… before we go to Ollivander’s to get your wand, then I think we’ll have a spot of lunch, before we pick up your books at Flourish and Blott’s, what do you say?”

 

”And my pet”, Harry says, worried that his daddy might have forgotten his promise, but at the man’s amused smile, he realises he’s being teased. 

 

”Of course, we’ll get your pet”, Remus says and steers him over to the Robes Shop. ”Harry, would you mind terribly if I went and got some supplies while you’re being fitted?”

 

”What? Why? I mean, why can’t I come with you?” Harry asks anxiously. 

 

”Just trying to save some time, thats all”, Remus says casually, but he avoids Harry’s eyes and quickly opens the door Madam Malkin’s and holds it up for Harry. ”I won’t be long. You’ll be fine, you’re in safe hands, Madam Malkin is a sweetheart, you’ll see…”

 

”Okay”, Harry says dully and slips inside the shop, his belly fluttering nervously as Remus waves to him through the glass door, before disappearing from sight. 

 

”Hogwarts, dear?” a squat, smiling witch in mauve robes says. ”Got the lot here — another young man is being fitted up just now, in fact… Well, come on, come on…”

 

She waves Harry in and he quickly stumbles after her into the back of the shop where a boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blonde hair is standing on a footstool while a second witch is pinning up his long black robes. 

 

Madam Malkin guides Harry up onto a second footstool right next to the other boy and puts a long robe over his head that she then proceeds to pin to the right length. 

 

”Hullo”, the boys says coolly. ”Hogwarts, too?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and gives the boy a nervous smile. 

 

”My father’s next door buying my books and my mother’s up the street looking at wands”, the boy says in a rather bored, drawling tone of voice, but it sounds a bit forced and well, _rehearsed,_ Harry thinks and stifles a smile. ”Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one anyway and I’ll smuggle it in somehow…”

 

Harry is reminded of his own broom back home and feels a flutter of excitement in his belly. He glances over at the other boy, catching his curious, steel grey eyes briefly before he quickly looks away again, pretending to be bored once more. Harry smiles to himself, if only he could tell this boy… He would be so impressed with Harry if he knew… if he realised that Harry had similar intentions of smuggling a broom into Hogwarts, that they had that in common… Maybe they could even become friends…

 

”Have _you_ got your own broom?” the boy asks. 

 

”Yes”, Harry says immediately, allowing some of his excitement to seep into his voice. 

 

”Really… Play Quidditch at all?” 

 

”Ehm, a bit, you know at home with—”

 

”Yeah, me too”, the boy interrupts. ”Father says it’s a crime if I don’t get picked to play for my House, I’m that good…”

 

Harry huffs out a chuckle, and gives the boy a wry smile. If it wasn’t for the eager glint in the boy’s eyes, Harry might have thought he was just as arrogant as he pretends to be… _But he’s not, he’s just trying to impress me,_ he thinks and feels that flutter in his belly again. _He’s trying to impress_ me _of all people… and he doesn’t even know who I am, so it’s not like with those people in the pub._

 

”Know what House you’ll be in?” the boy asks after a moment when it becomes clear that Harry isn’t going to praise his supposed Quidditch skills. ”I mean, no-one really knows until they get there, but I just know I’ll be in Slytherin. Everyone in my family have been, you know.”

 

The fluttery thing in Harry’s belly sinks like a stone, as the possibility of friendship starts to shrink. Slytherin, he thinks numbly. The only thing he knows about Slytherin is that his dad’s whole family had been in that House, everyone but his dad who broke tradition and got Sorted into Gryffindor where he met Remus, and Harry’s real dad James, and his mother Lily… Harry’s entire family have all been Gryffindors, and his fathers are always saying Harry is a typical Gryffindor as well… 

 

Harry isn’t sure how much the different Houses see of each other, except when they have shared classes together, but he somehow thinks it’s unlikely that a Gryffindor can be friends with a Slytherin. 

 

”Imagine being in Hufflepuff”, the boys continues. ”I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

 

”Mmm”, Harry mumbles, avoiding the boy’s silvery eyes now. 

 

Suddenly the bell above the shop door jingles and both boys turn to look up to see Remus appear around the corner, grinning at the sight of Harry in his new robes. Harry gives him a small smile in return, but his heart isn’t really in it. He catches the worried frown on his daddy’s face before he looks away. 

 

”Harry?” Remus says. ”Everything alright?”

 

”Yeah, fine”, he mumbles, then taking a deep breath he looks up at the blonde boy, intent on introducing him to his daddy, but the unimpressed sneer on the boy’s face stops him and he frowns, following his line of sight. 

 

Remus tries to catch his eyes again, the worry line still present on his brow. Harry glances from his face to his slightly worn robes, noticing the patches where they’ve been mended as if seeing them for the first time, and he realises what the blonde boy had been looking down his nose at… Bristling, Harry straightens up and turns back to let the boy know _exactly_ what he thinks of his stuck-up opinions…

 

”That’s you done, dear!” Madam Malkin says, interrupting him. 

 

Harry shuts his mouth again with a snap and hops down from the footstool. 

 

”Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose”, the boy says behind him, but he doesn’t turn to look at him again and he doesn’t reply. 

 

Remus watches him uncertainly as he stomps past him and disappears into the front of the shop. He pulls the robes off angrily and dumps them on top of the counter, waiting for his daddy and Madam Malkin to come, so they can pay up and leave the shop already. 

 

He stands off to the side, fuming silently as Remus pays for the robes. Madam Malkin waves good bye to him and he gives her a quick wave back, still scowling to himself. 

 

”Harry, hang on”, Remus says when they exit the shop and grabs his arm gently when he tries to walk off down the street. ”Stop — hey — look at me…”

 

Harry huffs and stands still, his fists shoved into his pockets. He refuses to meet his daddy’s eyes, horrified to feel his own eyes fill with tears. 

 

 _I will_ not _cry over that stupid boy_ , he thinks furiously. _To think I ever wanted to be friends with him._

 

Remus sighs softly and crouches down in front of him, rubbing his hands over Harry’s arms as if trying to warm him up, ”What happened?”

 

”Nothing”, Harry mutters, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. 

 

”Don’t lie, Harry. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But don’t lie to me, please…”

 

The tears finally spill over then and Harry scrunches his face up miserably, a small sniffle turning into a whimpering sob and before he knows what’s happened he’s burrowed into Remus’s arms and is crying quite freely into his shoulder. 

 

Remus holds him and shushes him gently, ”Shh… It’s okay, shh, come on sweetheart, it’s okay…”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry hiccoughs against his shoulder after a while.

 

”Don’t be sorry”, Remus chides gently. ”Come on… Let’s go get some lunch, and maybe an ice-cream for afters, what do you say?”

 

Harry nods, then ducks his head and wipes his face with both hands. 

 

”Come on”, Remus says again and stands up, putting his arm around Harry and leading him down the cobbled street. 

 

They buy lunch in a small almost hidden-away café that Harry didn’t see the name of and Remus finds them a secluded corner booth, and makes sure Harry has the seat with the back to the rest of the room. He smiles gently at Harry when he glances up, meeting his eyes for the first time and blushing for acting like a little child and crying like that, out in public no less… For a brief moment he wonders if the boy from the shop had seen him break down, or he’d seen Remus comfort him, but then decides he doesn’t care. He _really doesn’t care_ what the boy thinks. 

 

”Daddy”, he says in a small voice. ”I think you’re the best dad anyone could have.”

 

Remus blinks in surprise, and then a look of understanding flits into his eyes. He doesn’t say anything though, just smiles back. And Harry is grateful for it, because he doesn’t think he could tell him about the boy in the shop and the ugly look on his face when Remus had walked in. 

 

”Okay”, Remus says decisively, as they’ve both finished up their meals. ”We’ll go get ice-cream at Florean Fortescue’s first of all, then we’ll get your wand at Ollivander’s before we go to Flourish and Blott’s, and finally we’ll head to the Magical Menagerie for your last birthday present, how’s that sound?”

 

”Great”, Harry says with renewed excitement and grins. 

 

*

 

 _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC,_ the peeling gold letters above the door to the narrow wand shop says. As they step inside, a tinkling bell can be heard from deep within the shop. Remus gives Harry an encouraging smile, before he takes a seat on the single spindly chair in the middle of the floor. 

 

”Good afternoon”, a soft voice suddenly speaks from the gloom next to Harry, who jumps and swivels round to stare at the two pale eyes floating out of the darkness, followed by a lined, old face and messy, white hair as the old wizard steps out of the shadows. 

 

”H-hello”, Harry says awkwardly. 

 

”Good afternoon, Mr Ollivander”, Remus says politely. 

 

Mr Ollivander doesn’t even glance at Remus however, he keeps staring at Harry with an intensity that is making the boy feel uncomfortable. 

 

”Ah yes…” the man says, in an even softer voice. ”Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon… Harry Potter… You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow, great for Charms work…”

 

Mr Ollivander takes a swift step closer to Harry, who tenses up further. 

 

”Your father, on the other hand”, he continues, and Harry frowns uncomfortably, shrinking away slightly as the old man seems to loom ever closer. ”Favoured a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable, a little more power and excellent for Transfiguration — well, I say your father favoured it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course, not the other way round.”

 

Mr Ollivander is now standing so close to Harry that they are almost nose to nose, and Harry notices immediately when the man’s gaze flits to the scar on his forehead. 

 

”Ah… and that’s where —”

 

Mr Ollivander reaches up and touches the lightening bolt shaped scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, crooked finger and Harry flinches back. There is a sudden creak behind them as Remus jumps up from the spindly chair and then clears his throat pointedly. Mr Ollivander retreats his finger, but doesn’t move away. 

 

”I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it”, he murmurs. ”Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…”

 

”Yes, well —!” Remus interrupts loudly. ”We really must hurry you, we still have a lot of stuff to buy!”

 

”Remus! Remus Lupin!” Mr Ollivander exclaims, as if he hadn’t seen him already. ”Cypress, ten and a quarter inches, unicorn hair core, wasn’t it?”

 

”Yes”, Remus says shortly. 

 

”Yes, well, now — Mr Potter”, Mr Ollivander says and pulls out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. ”Which is your wand arm?”

 

”Er — my right, Sir”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”Well, hold it out. That’s it.” 

 

Mr Ollivander measures Harry’s right arm from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and finally around his head. Harry peers curiously at Remus, who just gives him an encouraging wink and sits back down on the spindly chair. 

 

Mr Ollivander is moving along the shelves, pulling out narrow boxes and offering Harry different wands to try. What he's waiting for, Harry isn’t sure, but he’d no sooner given a wand to Harry than he snatched it right back, muttering to himself, ”No, no, definitely not”

 

The pile of tried wands is growing higher and higher, and so far, nothing has happened when Harry has held one of them. Despite this, Mr Ollivander seems to get happier and happier as he moves eagerly down the rows of shelves, ”Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — here”, he thrusts yet another wand at Harry, describing it quickly as he’s done with all the rest, but Harry is barely even paying attention to him anymore, ”Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches —”

 

Suddenly, Harry feels a warmth in his fingers and he grips the wand gently. He gasps, and looks up at Mr Ollivander who grins back at him, his yellow teeth almost glowing in the gloom. 

 

Harry glances over at Remus as well, and at the man’s encouraging nod, he raises the wand and gives it a swish. A stream of red and gold sparks suddenly shoot out of the wand tip like fireworks and Harry beams. 

 

”Oh, bravo!” Mr Ollivander exclaims. ”Oh, very good, very good indeed… well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…”

 

He keeps muttering to himself as he puts Harry’s wand back in its box and wraps it with brown paper.

 

”Sorry”, Harry says. ”But _what’s_ curious?”

 

”I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr Potter”, Mr Ollivander says and fixes Harry with another intense stare that makes Harry’s stomach clench. ”And it so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather — just one other — and it is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother _gave you that scar_ —”

 

Harry swallows thickly, but before Mr Ollivander can tell him any more, Remus has moved forward to pay for the wand and is soon ushering Harry out of the shop again. 

 

*

 

They finally make their way from Flourish and Blotts, all of Harry’s school books shrunken and stored safely inside his new cauldron along with his wand and potions supplies. Remus had bought the potions supplies while Harry was getting fitted, and when Harry asked him again why he’d not been allowed to accompany him to the Apothecary, the man had been just as evasive as the first time. Harry’s mind is whirring with questions, not just about what his daddy hadn’t wanted him to see in the Apothecary’s, but about what Ollivander had let slip before Remus interrupted him… And once in a while the pale, blonde boy from Madam Malkin’s flicker by again as well, making his belly flutter once more, but for what reason, Harry doesn’t know, it’s not like he _likes_ the boy anymore…

 

At the sight of the Magical Menagerie, Harry’s mind finally slows to a stop and he can focus again. There’s not much room inside, every inch of wall covered by different sized cages and it’s both smelly and noisy, the occupants of the cages all squeaking, squawking, jabbering or hissing, but Harry couldn’t have been more excited. He’s always wanted a pet, but his fathers always told him he was too young, and that a pet was a big responsibility… 

 

”Remember, you can only choose an owl, a cat, or a toad”, Remus reminds him as he stares around eagerly. 

 

”Oh, daddy, look”, he says, pulling on Remus arm eagerly and pointing to a snowy white owl perched on a peg on the wall. ”She’s beautiful!”

 

”Yes, she is”, Remus agrees and chuckles as the owl blinks her eyes open and hoots affectionately at Harry who beams. 

 

Suddenly a tiny meow can be heard and Harry twirls around, searching for the source of the sound and gasps when he sees the tiniest kitten, curled up inside an over-turned hat on the counter. He carefully scoops it up, marvelling at how tiny and soft it is. The kitten opens its mouth and meows again, but it’s more of a pitiful squeak than a proper meow. Harry gently holds it against his chest, and it immediately snuggles close and starts to purr. 

 

”Oh…” Harry breathes, and carefully manoevers the little ball of fur into one hand, so that he can use his other to stroke its head. ”Oh, daddy, isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

 

”A cat?” Remus says uncertainly. ”Are you sure, Harry? An owl would be more useful…”

 

Harry looks over at the snowy white owl again and feels a pinching sensation in his chest. He can’t choose. He’s fallen in love with them both. 

 

Remus watches him silently for a moment, then sighs, ”No, Harry… You can’t have both, you have to choose one…”

 

Harry looks down at the kitten again, unconsciously pouting. 

 

Remus sighs again, ”You’re only allowed to bring _one pet_ to Hogwarts, Harry.”

 

The kitten turns its head back and yawns, then blinks its cerulean eyes open and stares up at Harry, who immediately looks up Remus with a pleading look. The man swallows another sigh and glances over at the amused looking witch behind the counter, then frowns at Harry with a stern look. 

 

Harry’s pout grows, and Remus frown falters. 

 

”Harry”, he tries to reason. ”You are not allowed two pets at Hogwarts. That’s the rule. It’s not up to me, I can’t change —”

 

”But she can stay at home with you and dad”, Harry says eagerly. ”And I can see her during the holidays!”

 

”Your dad will love _that_ …” Remus mutters. 

 

”Oh, he won’t mind, look at her, she’s adorable! He’ll love her, you’ll see! Look, she loves me already — look —”

 

Remus reluctantly glances down at the tiny creature in Harry’s hand. The second pair of pleading eyes seems to seal the deal, because he sighs again and nods. 

 

”Fine. You can get both. But I’ll leave _you_ to explain this to your dad.”

 

Harry just beams happily, and nuzzles the side of the kitten’s face lovingly. He can’t see why anyone would have a problem with keeping such a cute creature, and besides, his fathers always joke about being dog people, but they’ve never even had a dog as far as Harry knows, not even before Harry was born. 

 

As he suspected, not a lot of explaining is required in the end. Sirius surprises them both by welcoming them home to a finished dinner and takes one look at Harry carrying the kitten in one hand and the owl cage in the other and immediately turns to look at his husband with an exasperated look. 

 

Remus cheeks flushes a faint pink and he gives Sirius an apologetic look, but the other man just shakes his head and smiles fondly. 

 

”I’ve already named the owl Hedwig”, Harry announces proudly putting the cage down on the table. ”Because she’s just mine, but since the kitten will be all of ours, we should come up with a name together!”

 

” _That_ was Harry’s idea, as well”, Remus tells Sirius in an under-tone and gets a quick kiss in response.

 

After a short but passionate discussion, the family decides on the name Selina for the cat and after much begging and imploring puppy dog eyes from Harry, Selina is allowed to sleep in Harry’s bed with him. Remus tucks Harry in and then carefully moves Selina out of the way so that he can sit down in the side of the bed. He smiles down at Harry and gently strokes his head.

 

”I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown up, Harry”, he says thickly. ”What will I do without you when you go away to Hogwarts…”

 

Harry frowns in concern, but Remus chuckles and shakes his head then, ”Don’t mind me, I’m just being my sentimental self…”

 

”I’ll miss you too, daddy”, Harry says. ”But don’t you think it’s a good thing I got two pets, though? This way, I’ll have Hedwig to keep me company while I’m away, and you and dad will have Selina!”

 

Remus chuckles again, ”Yes, you’re absolutely right. Good thinking, Harry…”

 

”You really think I’ll be sorted into Gryffindor?” 

 

”I don’t know, Harry. But it doesn’t matter. All the houses have their good qualities. Whichever one you get sorted into, you’ll do great.”

 

”Even if I’m sorted into Slytherin?” Harry says nervously. 

 

”Is this about what the Malfoy boy said?”

 

Harry blinks in surprise, no idea that his daddy had been that perceptive or that he’d known who the blonde boy was even. Remus gives him a gentle smile. Harry swallows, then nods. 

 

”Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean most of it… He looked rather nervous to me, he was probably just trying to impress you.”

 

”That’s what I thought at first”, Harry admits shyly. ”I thought he was kind of… But then he turned out to be stuck-up and mean.”

 

Remus nods, ”Well… If you are both sorted in the same house, I’m sure you’ll get to know each other better and you’ll realise that there’s a different side to him.”

 

”How do you know?” Harry says suspisciously. 

 

”There always is”, Remus says simply and shrugs.

 

”And if we’re not sorted into the same house?”

 

”Then… You won’t have to worry about him regardless, will you? Either way, it will be fine.”

 

”I guess…” Harry mumbles, still not convinced.

 

He scratches Selina behind the ears, her purring soothing him more than anything. Remus smiles at him again and leans down to kiss him softly on the forehead. 

 

”Sweet dreams, Harry… I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love.


	3. September 1st

Harry is woken up roughly by a stressed-looking Remus who has a rather wild look in his eyes when he tells Harry to hurry up and get dressed, then disappears from the room again in a flurry of movement. The chaos continues throughout the morning. Remus is muttering about missing the Hogwarts Express and tells Harry to hurry up several times, then scolds him for not eating breakfast when Harry decides to forgo it for the sake of saving time. 

 

”You need to eat!” Remus says and pushes him onto a kitchen chair.

 

”Moony…” Sirius says in his most patient voice from his own seat at the table. ”Calm down —”

 

”Don’t”, Remus snaps. ”This is your fault — I told you to wake me — oh God, is that really the time? We’re going to miss the train —”

 

”We’re not going to miss the train”, Sirius says calmly, then urges Harry to finish his breakfast in an undertone and Harry quickly stuffs the piece of toast in his mouth then burns the roof of his mouth when he tries to wash it down with his tea. 

 

Harry barely has time to take one last look at the house where he’s lived for as long as he can remember, before Remus is ushering him into the hall. 

 

”No, wait — Selina — I have to say goodbye —!”

 

”Harry, it’s half past ten!” Remus growls and pushes him insistently out the door, then swiftly catches him as he trips over his own feet. ”Come on, come on, you’ll Side-Along with me, and Sirius —”

 

”Wait, what about Hedwig —?” Harry says in panic. 

 

”— _is with your dad_ , now _come on,_ grab your trunk!”

 

Harry quickly grabs the handle on his school trunk, and then Remus grabs his other hand in a tight grip and turns swiftly on the spot. Harry feels squeezed from all sides, his eyes pushed into his skull and his stomach plummeting. He clutches Remus’s hand desperately, afraid that he might lose him and be sucked into the black nothingness forever. 

 

Finally, their feet touch ground just outside King’s Cross Station. Sirius is waiting for them at the entrance with Hedwig’s cage dangling from his hand, and he grins as Remus grabs the trunk from Harry and then proceeds to run up to his husband, Harry struggling to keep up behind him.

 

”We made it”, Remus says breathlessly as he almost crashes into Sirius. ”I can’t believe we made it.”

 

” _Now_ will you relax?” Sirius says affectionately. 

 

”Do _not_ think this means we will make a tradition of sleeping in on the morning of the first of September every year!” Remus growls, the kiss that Sirius plants on his lips barely registering as he continues to glower at the other man. ”Besides, Harry is not sitting on the Hogwarts Express yet. I’ll relax when he is — Harry, come on now!”

 

The family make their way through the station quickly, Harry glancing around curiously and noticing the attention they’re receiving from the muggles around them, but not really caring. Like with Diagon Alley, Harry has only heard stories about King’s Cross but has never actually been until just now. It’s a little smaller than he’d imagined, and a lot dirtier. But he likes it anyway. 

 

”Come on, come on, quickly…” Remus mutters, dragging Harry along behind him. ”This way, this way… God, packed with muggles, of course… Here we are, platform nine…”

 

Without pausing, Remus continues to walk briskly with Harry still running behind him struggling to keep up, heading straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten — a foot away from it, Harry squeezes his eyes shut, getting ready for the crash — but it doesn’t come… Remus just continues walking, and Harry stumbles after him blindly… after another moment he opens his eyes and is startled to see a whole new platform and a huge scarlet steam engine waiting for them on the tracks. 

 

”Come on, it’s getting ready to leave”, Remus says and pulls a little harder on Harry’s arm.

 

”What about dad —?” 

 

”Right behind you, runt!” Sirius calls out from behind him and Harry tries to look over his shoulder, but ends up stumbling and Remus immediately lifts his arm up to help him regain his balance. 

 

The smoke from the train billows into the air and drifts over the heads of the small crowd. Harry unconsciously scans it for any sign of blonde hair until he catches himself and resolutely tells himself he doesn’t even care if the boy has made it. 

 

They run down to the end of the train where, Remus informs Harry, there are plenty of empty seats. He then stops to catch his breath for the first time this morning, and just looks at Harry for a second before his eyes well up with tears unexpectedly and he throws his arms around Harry in a tight hug. Harry hugs him back, just as tightly and feels the older man sniffle softly into his neck. 

 

”Come on, Moony”, Sirius says gently next to them. ”It’ll be Christmas before you know it…”

 

Remus lets out a wet chuckle and nods, finally releasing Harry again so that Sirius can hug him as well. Harry grabs Hedwig’s cage from him and climbs onto the train after Remus who has heaved the trunk onboard for him. 

 

”Remus, the train is moving”, Sirius says. 

 

The other man nods quickly before giving Harry one quick hug, then jumps back onto the platform before the steam enginge starts to pick up speed. Harry hurries over to the now closed door and leans out of the open window to wave at his two fathers. They both wave back enthusiastically. 

 

A plump, red-haired woman and a young girl with equally flaming red hair are waving at someone a bit further up the train from Harry and when the little girl starts crying, he can hear an older boy yell, _”Don’t Ginny! We’ll send you lots of owls!”_

 

 _”We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!”_ another voice pipes up, uncannily similar to the first one. 

 

”George!” the woman shouts sternly.

 

_”Only joking, Mum!”_

 

Harry glances back at his fathers again, and just before the train lurches around the bend and they disappear from view, he sees fresh tears spill down Remus’s face and Sirius wrapping an arm around him. 

 

Harry feels a weird mix of sadness and excitement. On the one hand, he’s worried about being away from his fathers for so long. He’s never been away from the both of them than a day, and now he won’t see them for months… What if he gets homesick… What if something happens and he feels sad, and Remus won’t be there to comfort him… On the other hand, he is finally going to Hogwarts, something he’s been dreaming about since he was a little kid and Sirius told him stories about his time there. 

 

And he’ll get to meet lots of other wizards and witches, and hopefully make lots of friends… He tries not to think about the blonde boy, when this thought pops into his head, but since the blonde — _the Malfoy boy_ , as Remus had called him — is one of few wizards Harry’s own age that he’s ever met, it’s hard not to think about him. 

 

With a sigh, Harry turns back to his trunk and realises for the first time that he has no way of moving it into a compartment. He puts Hedwig’s cage down on the floor and tries grabbing the trunk with both hands, then heaves with all his strength… He can barely lift the one side off the ground. Harry puts it back down with a groan. 

 

”Want a hand?” someone says suddenly and Harry jerks his head up, an older boy with flaming red hair and a face full of freckles is sticking his head out of a nearby compartment, and Harry realises his is one of the voices he’s just heard.

 

”Oh, yes, please!” Harry says in relief. 

 

The boy nods, then turns his head to shout over his shoulder, ”Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

 

In the next moment, another boy appears, looking identical to the first one. Harry blinks, then smiles gratefully as they both grab a hold of the trunk and lugs it into an empty compartment for him. 

 

”Thanks so much”, Harry says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

 

”What’s that?” one of the twins says suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightening bolt scar. 

 

”What’s what?” Harry says. 

 

”Blimey! Are you —?”

 

”He is”, the other twin says excitedly. ”Aren’t you?”

 

”What?” Harry says in confusion. 

 

” _Harry Potter!_ ” the twins chorus together. 

 

”Oh him, I mean, yes, I am.”

 

The twins gawp at him for a moment, and Harry feels his face flush. Then one of them — Harry thinks he’s the one called Fred — seems to shake himself and exclaims, ”Shit, we forgot about Ron!”

 

Then just as suddenly as they’d appeared, the two older boys leave again. Harry looks around the empty compartment and gingerly puts Hedwig’s cage on one of the seats, then takes the one next to it, closest to the window. He watches as houses and trees fly by in a flurry of colours, feeling a mounting excitement start to build in his stomach as he thinks about where he is heading.

 

The compartment door slides open again and Harry turns to see another red-haired boy with freckles, younger than the twins but almost as tall. Harry guesses he must be their little brother and he smiles awkwardly at him. 

 

”Anyone sitting there?” the boy says and points to the seat opposite Harry. ”Everywhere else is full.”

 

Harry shakes his head. The boy gives him a pinched smile and takes the seat. 

 

”Hey, Ron”, one of the twins say from the doorway. ”Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

 

”Right”, the younger boy mumbles.

 

”But you’re alright here, aren’t you? With Harry Potter?”

 

”Oh, Harry”, the other twin says with his chin propped up on his brother’s shoulder, making it look like they’re conjoined. ”Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And you’ve met our little brother Ron. Well, see you later then!”

 

”Bye”, Harry and Ron say as the twins slide the compartment door shut again. 

 

”Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurts out. 

 

Harry nods. 

 

”Oh — Sorry, I thought maybe it was one of Fred and George’s jokes… And have you really got — you know…”

 

He points to Harry’s forehead and Harry stifles a sigh and nods, lifting his fringe completely out of the way to reveal the lightening bolt scar. 

 

”Wicked”, Ron whispers. ”So that’s where You-Know-Who —?”

 

”Yeah, but I can’t remember it”, Harry mumbles awkwardly. 

 

He’s never really talked about it, not even with his fathers. He’s asked them questions growing up, of course. But he could tell it made them uncomfortable to talk about it, so he’s learned to ignore it as well. 

 

”You don’t remember anything?” Ron asks eagerly. 

 

”Only… Well, I remember a lot of green light, but that’s all.”

 

”Wow”, Ron says amazed and just stares at Harry for a moment until he catches himself and quickly looks out the window instead. 

 

”Have you got many brothers and sisters?” Harry asks, not wishing this to be the end of their conversation now that he’s finally talking to a wizard his own age, _who isn’t behaving like a snooty little shit_ , he thinks.

 

”Yeah, well, just the one sister. But I’ve got five brothers. You met Fred and George. And then Percy is still at Hogwarts as well, he’s the oldest of us four. Then there’s Charlie and Bill, but they’ve already left Hogwarts…”

 

”I kind of wish I had brothers and sisters”, Harry admits. ”I’m an only child — er — or maybe you knew that already?”

 

Ron gives him a sheepish smile, ”Kind of. And weren’t you raised by —?”

 

”I have two fathers”, Harry says quickly. ”They were best friends with my — well — my real parents, and after they were killed, Sirius and Remus took me in and raised me as their own. They’re really great. I can’t imagine not having them as my parents, actually…”

 

Harry feels a flush on his face but stares back at Ron defiantly, as if challenging the boy to disagree with him but he doesn’t. He just nods seriously. 

 

”And they didn’t have any more kids besides you?”

 

”No”, Harry admits. ”I wish I had at least one sibling… But it’s all right.”

 

”I’m the sixth to go to Hogwarts, so you can say I’ve got a lot to live up to”, Ron says looking quite morose about it. ”Bill was Head Boy, Charlie was captain of the Quidditch team, and now Percy has  been made Prefect as well — Fred and George mess around a lot, but everyone loves them and I think they do get good marks when they really try, and even if they don’t everyone thinks they’re really funny… Everyone expects me to do just as well, but if I do it’s no big deal because they’ve all done it first. Plus, you never get anything new when you’ve got older brothers. I’ve got Bill’s robes, Charlie’s old wand and Percy’s old rat…”

 

Ron reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a fat grey rat which is asleep. 

 

”His name is Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up… Percy got an owl from dad for being made Prefect, but they couldn’t aff— I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

 

Harry nods, ”This is Hedwig. I got her for my birthday.”

 

”She’s really nice…” Ron says, then looks down at the sleeping Scabbers with a disgusted look. ”He might have died and you wouldn’t even know the difference! I tried turning him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look…”

 

He rummages around in his pocket and pulls out a very battered-looking wand, then clears his throat and raises it over the sleeping rat. 

 

The compartment door slides open and a girl with bushy brown hair and quite large front teeth marches inside, followed closely by a tearful-looking chubby boy. 

 

”Have either of you seen a toad, Neville here has lost one”, the girl says in a rather bossy voice. 

 

”No, sorry”, Harry says, glancing between the two of them, but the girl doesn’t seem to notice, she’s looking at Ron’s wand with interest. 

 

”Are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then!”

 

She promptly sits down next to Harry and stares at Ron expectantly. 

 

”Er — all right… _Sunshine, daises, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow_!”

 

Nothing happens. Scabbers continues to snooze in Ron’s lap and he groans miserably. 

 

”Are you sure that’s a real spell?” the girl says. ”It’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells for practise, and they’ve all worked for me. Nobody in my family is magic at all, so it was quite a shock when I received my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

 

Harry and Ron turn to stare at each other in shock, then turn back to look at the girl. 

 

”I’m Ron Weasley”, Ron mutters.

 

”Harry — ehm — Potter”, Harry says. 

 

”Oh, are you really? I’ve read all about you in _Modern Magical History_ , _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and of course _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._ ”

 

”Er — all right…” Harry says awkwardly, glancing at Ron again who makes a scandalized face that makes Harry smile. 

 

”Do either of you know what house you might be sorted into?” Hermione continues, unperturbed. ”I’ve been asking around and I do hope I’m in Gryffindor, it seems the best, I mean Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor after all — But I suppose Ravenclaw would be all right, as well… Anyway, we should continue looking for Neville’s toad… And you two had better get into your robes, I expect we’ll be arriving soon!”

 

”Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it”, Ron mutters after the girl and the toadless boy has disappeared again. ”Stupid spell — George taught it to me, bet he knew it was a dud…”

 

”What house is your brothers in?” Harry asks curiously. 

 

”Gryffindor”, Ron says heavily. ”My whole family have all been in Gryffindor. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not… I don’t suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad, but imagine being put in Slytherin!”

 

Harry’s heart seems to skip a beat. The whole time he’s been talking to Ron, he’s managed to push all thoughts of the Malfoy boy into the back on his mind, but at the mention of Slytherin, out he pops into the very forefront again. Harry barely suppresses a groan. 

 

”I know”, Ron says, mistaking the look on Harry’s face for a reaction to the prospect of being sorted into Slytherin, but Harry doesn’t bother correcting him. ”Anyway, what’s you Quidditch team —?”

 

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted as the compartment door slides open once again. Harry looks over and his heart lurches: the pale, blonde boy from Madam Malkin’s is standing in the doorway, bookended by two heavy-set boys with rather mean-looking scowls on their faces. Harry glances between them nervously, then focuses on the blonde who is staring right back at him, looking rather intrigued. Harry feels a traiterous flutter in his belly. 

 

”Is it true?” the blonde says. ”They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says and for the first time he doesn’t feel awkward admitting it, but almost a little excited as the other boy’s silvery eyes glitter with interest. 

 

”I’m Draco… Draco Malfoy.”

 

Ron gives a slight cough which might have concealed a snigger, and Draco turns to look at him sharply, ”Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask yours. My father has told me the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford.”

 

The fluttery sensation fades away, and Harry sighs silently. He’s reminded again of the way Draco acted i Madam Malkin’s, the way he looked down his nose at Remus, and why Harry wasn’t supposed to care about him… 

 

”You want to be careful, Harry…” Draco says coolly. ”If you hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys it might rub off on you —”

 

Ron jumps to his feet, his face as red as his hair and his Scabbers free hand balled into a fist, ”Say that again!”

 

Harry quickly got to his feet as well, prepared to restrain Ron in case he decides to actually attack.

 

”Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Draco sneers. 

 

”Just get out”, Harry snaps at him. 

 

Draco’s eyes flicker over to Harry again, and they seem more steel than silver suddenly. He frowns, then forces an insincere smile onto his face instead, ”But we don’t feel like leaving yet, do we, boys?”

 

One of the other boys takes a threatening step closer to Ron and reaches out to grab him, but suddenly jumps back with a howl of pain. Harry frowns in startled confusion and looks between Ron and the boy, but Ron seems just as surprised as him. But then the large boy starts swinging his hand around, still howling in pain, and it all becomes clear: Scabbers has sunk his teeth into the boy’s finger and is holding on for dear life. 

 

Finally the boy manages to dislodge the rat who flies off his finger and hits the window. Ron yelps and dives after him. Harry looks at Draco who seems to hesitate, but then quickly follows his two friends as they scramble away. 

 

”I think he’s been knocked out”, Ron says cradling the unconscious rat carefully. ”No — I don’t believe it — he’s gone back to sleep!”

 

The Hogwarts Express slows down and stops. Harry’s stomach lurches and he glances nervously at Ron who seems to have paled underneath his freckles. 

 

”Here we go, then…” he says and the two of them make their way off the train and onto the unfamiliar platform. 

 

Harry shivers as the cold, night air hits him. Then he spots a lantern bobbing along towards them and a loud, booming voice calls out, ”Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here! Gather aroun’ ye lot!”

 

Harry, Ron and the rest of the first-years scurry between the older students and gather in front of a huge man wearing a large furry coat, and Harry realises with a jolt that this is Hagrid, he’s met him a couple of times before! When he was younger, the man — half-giant — had come to the house to visit them. He beams up at him, not feeling scared anymore. 

 

”All right there, Harry!” the half-giant greets kindly, his big hairy face beaming down at him before he turns to the group at large again. ”C’mon ye lot, follow me!”

 

Slipping and stumbling, they follow Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. Nobody talks. Neville, the boy who has lost his toad, can be heard sniffling once or twice. 

 

”Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec”, Hagrid calls over his shoulder. ”Jus’ round this bend here…”

 

The path opens suddenly on to the edge of a large black lake and on the other side, the castle sits perched atop a high hill, its many windows sparkling like some addition to the starry sky. There is a collective ”Ooooh” and some astonished gasps from the students. Harry’s heart seems to leap at the sight. It’s just beautiful. 

 

”All right, get in the boats now”, Hagrid instructs. ”No more than four to a boat!”

 

Harry and Ron climbs into one of the boats and is followed by Neville and Hermione, much to Ron’s chagrin. Harry discretely looks around for a sign of blonde hair in the gloom, but it’s too dark to make much of anything out. 

 

When all the students are seated, Hagrid climbs into the last boat and shouts, ”FORWARD!”

 

The fleet of little boats move together as one and sets off across the lake. 

 

*

 

The giant oak doors of the castle swing open to reveal a tall, stern-faced witch in emerald green robes. 

 

”The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall”, Hagrid says and the old witch nods solemnly and gestures for the group of students to follow her into the entrance hall. 

 

The ceiling is soo high Harry can barely make it out, and a large staircase of gleaming marble rises from the flagged stone floor and disappears into the depth of the upper levels of the castle. 

 

Professor McGonagall leads them into a small chamber and gives them what sounds like a well-rehearsed welcome speech, then explains that once they have entered The Great Hall, there will be a Sorting Ceremony to determine which House they will be in, and Harry’s stomach clenches with a mix of dread and excitement. He glances at Ron, who looks just as nervous and then at Hermione and Neville on the other side of him. Neville looks about ready to faint, but Hermione looks mostly excited. 

 

Professor McGonagall instructs them all to form a line and follow her into The Great Hall, and Harry quickly aligns himself behind a boy with sandy hair, taking great care to lift his feet carefully so as not to trip over or stumble. He can just imagine what a spectacular first impression that would make: knocking over the rest of the first-years like dominos in front of the whole school…

 

As they filter into The Great Hall, Harry looks up in awe at the vaulted ceiling, black and dotted with stars like the night sky outside. Below the ceiling a hundred or so lit candles floats in midair, casting a warm glow over the student body scattered around the four long tables and the professors at the High Table at the far end of the Hall. 

 

Professor McGonagall guides them to the front, then places a four-legged stool in front of them upon which she places a patched and frayed hat… The Sorting Hat, Harry realises with a jolt. It looks exactly like he always imagined when Sirius was telling him stories about his own Sorting, but despite knowing what to expect, Harry still startles when the Hat suddenly twitches to life and a rip near the brim opens like a mouth — and it begins to sing…

 

As the Hat finishes its song, the Hall bursts into polite applause, and then Professor McGonagall reads out the first name from a long list, ”Abbott, Hannah!”

 

Harry watches with bated breath as the girl with blonde pigtails takes a seat on the four-legged stool and gasps as Professor McGonagall places the Hat on top of her head. There is a loaded pause when everyone seems to be waiting for the Hat to begin speaking, to begin asking its questions, but when it does finally open its rip again, all it does is shout ”HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

Harry frowns. Sirius has always told him that the Hat would speak to you, ask you some questions, before finally deciding where to put you… But the Hat hadn’t said a thing to Hannah Abbott before determining her fate. 

 

After Hannah has taken her seat at the Hufflepuff table, a new girl takes perches on top of the stool and once again Harry holds his breath as he waits for the Hat to start asking questions, but ince again all it does is shout ”HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

Harry looks at Ron in confusion, but the red-head merely shrugs. The Sorting continues without much change, besides the Hat’s proclamations that does begin to very from Hufflepuff to the other three Houses. A girl named Lavender Brown is the first to be Sorted into Gryffindor, soon to be followed by Hermione Granger, much to Ron’s displeasure. 

 

When Professor McGonagall reaches the Ms, Harry heart begins to hammer rather hard in his chest and when Draco Malfoy swaggers up to the stool, the by now familiar flutter in Harry’s belly makes itself known again and he stifles a groan. The Hat has barely touched Draco’s head when it opens its rip and shouts ”SLYTHERIN!”

 

”Figures”, Ron whispers next to Harry who can only nod, unable to tear his eyes away from the smirking blonde as he makes his way over to the Slytherin table. 

 

”Potter, Harry!” Professor McGonagall says sharply and there’s a collective gasp inside the Hall. 

 

Harry takes a deep breath and walks up to her with slow, deliberate steps, careful not to trip. As he gingerly perches on top of the stool, a intense hissing noise rises up as whispers break out across the Hall: 

 

_”Potter, did she say Potter?”_

 

 _”What_ the _Harry Potter?”_

 

The last thing Harry sees before the Hat is dropped over his eyes is a Hall full of people craning their necks curiously, trying to get a good look at him. 

 

”Hmm”, a voice speaks up suddenly and Harry startles. ”Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that is interesting… So where shall I put you?”

 

 _Do I answer?_ Harry thinks, gripping the edges of the stoolto keep himself from fidgeting. 

 

”Well, sure”, the Hat replies. ”You are allowed some input, this is your Sorting after all…”

 

Harry thinks hard, recalling the Hat’s song about the different Houses, and what Remus told him a few months ago about all the houses having their good qualities, and whichever one he ended up in, it wouldn’t matter because he would do well regardless… 

 

He thinks about Ron and the twins, who are all in Gryffindor… Well, Ron has yet to be sorted, but Harry is sure he’ll end up in Gryffindor with his brothers, and Harry is sure he’ll make friends with them all if he ends up in Gryffindor with them… Friends, he thinks longingly… 

 

Then a certain blonde-haired boy flashes before him and his belly flutters insistently. 

 

”Well, it looks like we’ve at least narrowed it down to two”, the Hat says, a little smugly. ”Gryffindor or Slytherin, eh? Well, I can’t argue with that… But which will it be?”

 

 _I don’t know,_ Harry thinks truthfully. _I can’t choose._

 

”No?”

 

 _No_ , he thinks firmly. _I can’t choose, I like them both. You decide._ That’s your job, isn’t it? 

 

”Very well, then… Better be… SLYTHERIN!”

 

The fluttery thing in Harry’s belly flies up and starts flapping away worse than ever, but Harry releases a breath he wasn’t even aware of holding in as he thinks, _at least it’s over…_ The Hat is removed form his head again, and the whole Great Hall comes into view: hundreds of students are staring up at him in mute shock. There is no applause, no cheering. 

 

Harry swallows thickly and carefully slides off the stool and starts making his way over to the Slytherin table. 

 

It’s not until he slips into his seat opposite Draco that the Hall seems to shake itself out of its trance and the Slytherins start clapping their hands furiously, while the other three houses join in with much less enthusiasm. 

 

Harry glances over at Draco who gazes back impassively, his two friends Crabbe and Goyle scowling uncertainly on either side of him, clearly confused as to how they should treat Harry now that he’s one of them. The sandy-haired boy who had walked in front of Harry in the line, Seamus Finnegan, has also been sorted into Slytherin and is sitting next to Harry. He turns to grin at Harry now and offers him his hand.

 

Harry looks over at the next table, where Ron takes his seat next to Hermione. The red-head meets his eyes and gives him a pinched smile. 

 

 _It’s fine,_ Harry thinks. _Who says you can’t be friends with someone in another house anyway? Me and Ron are friends already, there’s no reason that has to change just because we’re in different houses now!_

 

Harry glances back at Draco just in time to catch a subtle frown on the blonde’s face before he quickly looks away again, attempting to seem bored. _It_ is _kind of cute in a way,_ Harry thinks and smiles to himself. He remembers what Remus said, how there’s most likely a different side to Draco that Harry will see if he gets to know him better… And Harry can’t wait to discover it.

 


	4. Life at Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this last night when I'd just posted it I apologise for all the spelling mistakes. I believe I've fixed them all now. If you see any, let me know.

As the last boy to be Sorted — Blaise Zabini — makes his way over to the Slytherin table and gracefully slides into the seat next to Harry, Professor McGonagall rolls up the scroll and escorts the Sorting Hat out of the Great Hall again. Harry glances at the empty plate in front of him, his belly clenching with hunger, but apparently the feast will have to wait a while longer because Headmaster Dumbledore stands up — to hold a speech, Harry figures. 

 

Professor Dumbledore holds out his arms in a welcoming fashion, his long sleeves glittering in the candlelight as he shakes them out and, beaming down at the students, he says in a booming voice, ”Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words…”

 

Harry stifles a sigh and sits up a little straighter, ready to listen as avidly as he can while his stomach starts to eat itself… 

 

”And here they are”, Dumbledore continues, his eyes twinkling behind his halfmoon spectacles. ”Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

 

Harry huffs out an incredulous chuckle and then looks around at the other Slytherins to see if they could somehow make any sense of the Headmaster’s unorthodox speech. The other first-years glance around uncertainly just like Harry, but the older students seem less surprised by the Headmaster’s behaviour, allthough they don’t seem altogether sure either. 

 

”Thank you!” Dumbledore says and sits back down. 

 

”That’s it?” Harry whispers to Seamus Finnigan.

 

The other boy merely shrugs with a grin and then immediately starts tucking into the food that suddenly materialises on the plates in front of them. Harry gasps and stares down at the many dishes crammed together on the table and immediately starts filling his own plate with roast potatoes, chicken, chips and Yorkshire pudding, then finally scoops some peas and carrots onto the edge of the plate when he realises what Remus would say if he was here. 

 

Draco seems to hesitate for a moment, glancing between Seamus, Harry and the two large boys on either side of him, he frowns as they all tuck in eagerly before he gingerly scoops up some peas and pour onto his own plate. A couple of boiled potatoes and half a sausage joins the peas, and then the boy starts picking at it all, putting tiny bites into his mouth and chewing mechanically. Harry gives him a surprised look and is about to ask him if that’s all he’s going to eat, but before he has a chance to say anything, the blonde looks up and gives him a defiant look and Harry decides to keep his thoughts to himself. 

 

When Harry has finished half his plate and is starting to feel full and content, he slows down a bit and looks around the Hall more properly. Scanning the High Table, he notices Hagrid the gamekeeper squeezed into the corner where he’s drinking from a bucket-sized goblet and ironically enough he’s talking to the tiniest of all the Professors, a small man wearing a pointy hat. Next to them, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore are conversing pleasantly, and on the other side of the Headmaster’s Chair Harry can see Professor Quirrell in his weird turban, talking to a man with shoulder-length black, slightly greasy-looking hair that frames his sallow face with the most predominant feature being a rather long, hooked nose. 

 

Suddenly, the hooked-nosed teacher looks past Quirrell’s turban straight into Harry’s eyes, and a sharp, hot pain stabs Harry’s forehead, right along his lightening bolt scar and he gasps and claps a hand to his head. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Zabini asks him. 

 

”N-nothing”, Harry mutters, because the pain went away just as quickly as it appeared, and he quickly flattens down his fringe and grabs his goblet of pumpkin juice and gulps down a couple of swigs. 

 

Glancing up at the High Table again, he catches the hooked-nosed teacher looking at him still, before the man quickly looks away again. Harry frowns, wondering if he’d imagined the slight scowl on the man’s face… _Yeah, I must have done,_ he thinks. _Why would he dislike me, he doesn’t even know me…_

 

Professor Dumbledore gets to his feet again and relays some start-of-term notices and also informs the first-year students that the Dark Forest is strictly out of bounds, as is a third floor corridor apparently. Harry frowns at that. The Forest he can understand, from what his dad has told him it’s the home to some seriously dangerous creatures, but why would the students be forbidden to enter a corridor in the school?

 

”And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore says and gives his wand a little flick, causing a golden ribbon to fly out of the tip. 

 

Harry glances at the other teachers and notices that all of their smiles have become rather strained, and the hooked-nosed man isn’t even smiling at all. 

 

”Everyone pick their favourite tune”, Dumbledore says. ”And off we go!”

 

All the students, and some of the teachers, all start bellowing out the words spelled out by the golden ribbon, all to different tunes. Harry looks around in amusement, mouthing the words silently and just enjoys the spectacle. Finally, the only people still singing are the Weasley twins who have chosen a rather slow funeral march, and Harry laughs as Dumbledore conducts them through the last few lines then claps the loudest of everyone. 

 

”He’s a bit mad, isn’t he?” Harry says under his breath, to no-one in particular. 

 

”You said it”, Draco mutters, surprising Harry — and evidently himself as well, because he seems to startle and then quickly shoots Harry a worried look, as though expecting Harry to mock him for dropping his aloof exterior — but Harry simply laughs, and Draco relaxes again, his lips twitching.

 

As everyone finish up their meals, the Prefects get up and herds the first-years out of the Great Hall, leading the way to their House Common Rooms. Harry sees Ron’s red head disappear up a staircase with the rest of the Gryffindors, before he and the other Slytherins make their way through a dimly lit corridor, then take a spiral staircase down several levels until they reach the dungeons. Harry watch the paintings they pass curiously, waving back as the inhabitants of the various portraits greet and welcomes them to Hogwarts. 

 

Finally the two Slytherin Prefects — Cyril Lympsham and Scarlet Cowe — both stop abruptly next to a stretch of stone wall, empty save for a couple of torches on either side of the spot Lympsham is looking at intently. Harry cranes his neck, trying to get a better look and see what the older boy is staring at, but as far as he can see, there is nothing there.

 

”Salazar”, the Prefect says in a loud and clear voice. 

 

The stones in the wall start to wriggle, just like the wall concealing the entrance to Diagon Alley, and Harry smiles to himself as they rearrange themselves to create a narrow archway. 

 

”Come on, this way”, Cowe says loudly and marches through the archway, Lympsham close on her heels. 

 

The first-years quickly follow them into the hidden passage on the other side of the wall, then continue through another archway that leads them to a large circular room decorated with green and silver tapestries and Slytherin crests. Cowe leads the girls to one side where the entrance of the Girls’ Dormitories are and Harry and the other boys follow Lympsham to the Boys’ Dormitories. It’s quite cosy, with several large, ancient four-poster beds all with green silk hangings, and from the ceiling a couple of silver lanterns hang, casting a dim glow over everything.

 

He walks up to the nearest window and peers out, but he can’t make anything out, it’s too dark. He turns around and watches his fellow Slytherins choose their beds and unpack their trunks, and climbs onto the four-poster bed closest to him and leans down to grab his pyjamas from the trunk at the foot of it. Through the corner of his eye he sees Draco sidle up to the bed next to his, but doesn’t look over until he’s changed into his pyjamas and slipped beneath the cover. 

 

The pillow smells differently from his pillow back home, but it’s comfortable enough and he is exhausted anyway, so he probably won’t have any trouble falling asleep. He looks over at Hedwig who is sitting in her cage, sleeping with her head beneath her wing still, and he wonders if he should have let her out before heading to the dungeons…

 

”So…” Draco murmurs suddenly, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. ”That man in Madam Malkin’s, was that your… one of your…”

 

”Yeah. One of my dads”, Harry says shortly. 

 

Draco fingers the hem of his night shirt, avoiding Harry’s eyes for a moment. Harry glances around at the others, but everyone else seem to have gone to sleep already. Draco swallows a couple of times and then finally looks up at Harry through his lashes, looking quite shy suddenly, and Harry is reminded again of what Remus told him about Draco showing him another side if only Harry got to know him better. 

 

”Look…” Draco says quietly. ”On the train, what I was saying about hanging around riff-raff, I wasn’t talking about —”

 

”Okay”, Harry says. ”But I don’t think the Weasleys are riff-raff either, though. I only just met them, but they seemed all right to me. They were really nice actually.”

 

”They’re Gryffindors, though—”

 

”So were my dads”, Harry cuts in. 

 

Draco frowns, but doesn’t say anything. After a moment’s awkward silence, he climbs into his own bed and burrows down. Peering through the gloom, Harry thinks he can see the boy pouting and suppresses a smile. 

 

”Hey…” he whispers after a while. ”Draco… I might not hate Gryffindor, but we’re still going to slaughter them at Quidditch, right?”

 

Draco’s pout twitches a little, ”First-years aren’t allowed to try out for the team, though…”

 

”I know. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do a bit of practising, you know, so we’re ready to try out next year.”

 

Draco’s eyes seem to glitter in the gloom, ”Practise?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry whispers and smiles wickedly. ”Promise you can keep a secret?”

 

Draco nods eagerly and props his head up on his hand as Harry sits up and leans down to dig his shrunken Nimbus 2000 out of his trunk. He taps it with his wand and whispers, ” _Finite_ ”

 

Draco gasps and immediately sits up on his bed as the broomstick regains it’s normal size and Harry holds it up so that the other boy can read the golden letters. 

 

”You got a Nimbus 2000? _I_ got a Nimbus 2000, as well —!” Draco whispers excitedly. 

 

”You do? Where is it?”

 

”Father made me leave it at home”, Draco mutters. ”I told him there was no reason to buy it, if I couldn’t even use it until next year, that we might as well wait until the next model comes out… But then I won’t have a broom to fly during Christmas hols, so we decided to get it after all.”

 

”Well, you can borrow mine if you want. If we find a way to fly in secret.”

 

”Really?”

 

”Yeah, sure!”

 

They beam at each other for a moment, then Harry hides the broom behind the trunk and gets back under the covers. Draco follows suit and then they lie silently for a long while, just staring at each other in the darkness. 

 

”Harry…” Draco whispers finally. ”Are you asleep yet?”

 

”No, not yet”, Harry whispers. 

 

”I just wanted to say… I like you.”

 

Harry feels the fluttery things in his belly fly up again and smiles, ”I like you too, Draco. I really want us to be friends.”

 

”Best friends?”

 

”Yeah. _Best_ friends.”

 

”I’d like that too.”

 

The next morning Harry wakes up the soothing sound of water lapping against the windows and smiles as he stretches. He blinks his eyes open and peers sleepily over at Draco’s bed, only to discover that it’s been made and the blonde is nowhere to be seen. Harry pushes himself up to sitting and looks around the dorm. Vincent, Greg, Blaise and Seamus are all still in bed, so he hasn’t overslept. He wonders if Draco has already gone down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and considering the boy barely ate any dinner the night before it would make sense for him to be starving this morning, but Harry still doesn’t understand why he would go to breakfast alone and not wait for him… 

 

Just then, the door to the dormitory opens and Draco comes in. His blonde hair is wet and slicked back from his face and he’s carrying a damp towel and some toiletries. 

 

”Oh”, Harry says. ”I was wondering where you’d got to.”

 

”Shower”, Draco says simply and puts his things away before hanging the towel up to dry next to his bed. 

 

”How’d you know where to go?”

 

”I asked Professor Snape.”

 

”Who?”

 

”Professor Snape, the Potions teacher. He’s our Head of House”, Draco says and perches on the side of his made bed. 

 

”But… How did you know that?”

 

”He’s acquainted with my father”, Draco says and shrugs. ”Come on, let’s go to breakfast.”

 

”Yeah, just give me one minute… I need to write a letter to my dads”, Harry says. 

 

”Now?” Draco more or less whines, and Harry throws his pillow at his head, ”Yes, now. It won’t take long…”

 

He gets some parchment and a quill and scribbles down a quick message: _”Dad and daddy, I’m loving Hogwarts so far! I hope you won’t be too terrified, but the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin, it’s okay though… I’m really liking the dorms, and I’ve made two good friends already! Draco Malfoy who is in Slytherin with me, and Ron Weasley who was sorted into Gryffindor. I miss you both! And I love you!”_

 

Whispers follow Harry from the moment he leaves the Slytherin Common Room the next day. People queing outside classrooms crane their necks and stand on tip-toe to get a better look at him, and some even double back to pass him for a second time in the corridors. Harry really wishes they’d all just ignore him. It’s hard enough to navigate the corridors, without the constant distractions of the other students trying to get a better look at him. 

 

Apparently there are a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts, wide and sweeping ones, narrow and rickety ones, some that like to change things up randomly and move their positions and some with vanishing steps that you have to remember to look out for. Then there are doors that won’t open unless you ask them nicely, and some that won’t even show themselves unless you tickle them in exactly the right place, and then there are doors that aren’t actually doors at all, just walls pretending. And the staircases aren’t the only thing changing either, the inhabitants of the portraits tend to leave their own frames to visit each other, and Harry is sure the coats of armour can walk as well. 

 

He is just about to double back, having made a wrong turn between the Great Hall and the dungeons, when Draco comes running up to him, leaving Greg and Vincent behind. 

 

”It’s this way”, the blonde says and leads the way. 

 

The first Transfiguration lesson starts off rather promising with Professor McGonagall telling them strictly that Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous magic they’ll learn during their time at Hogwarts and anyone who messes around in her class will leave and not come back, then proceeds to turn her desk into a live pig, impressing them all and making them excited about getting started, but as it turns out they won’t be turning furniture into animals anytime soon. Instead they’re all given a matchstick each and intructed to turn them into needles. 

 

At the end of the lesson however, Hermione Granger is the only student to have altered her match in the slightest, and Professor McGonagall holds it up for everyone to see, favouring Ms Granger with a rare smile. The match had been made silvery and rather pointy, Harry can see and feels a stab of envy, but also a grudging respect for the muggle-born girl. Draco looks thunderous and mutters about mudbloods and cheating. 

 

Harry gives him a cross look, ”You shouldn’t use that word…”

 

Draco glares back, but doesn’t say anything else. 

 

At the end of their first day of classes, they have a subject that they’ve all been looking forward to — Defence Against The Dark Arts — but it turns out to be the biggest disappointment yet. The lesson and Professor Quirrell himself are both a bit of a joke, Harry decides as he and Draco make their way out of the classroom again. The Professor had told them that the turban he favours had been a gift from an African prince to say thanks for getting rid of a zombie, but when Seamus asked him how he’d fought off the zombie in question, Professor Quirrell had immediately blushed a faint pink and started stammering about the weather. 

 

 

*

 

Harry slides into the seat next to Draco at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall just as a hundred odd owls swoop down to deliver the mail and Harry eagerly scans the Hall for a sign of Hedwig’s snowy white feathers. The Malfoy’s eagle owl Bertram swoops down, its tail feathers brushing the top of Harry’s head and the medium-sized package dangling from its’ beak knocking over his goblet of pumpkin juice. 

 

”Oh, sorry”, Draco says. ”Bertram, be careful!”

 

”It’s all right”, Harry mutters, wiping pumpkin juice off his hand as he continues searching for Hedwig with his gaze. 

 

Finally she flutters into view and lands gracefully next to Harry’s plate on the table. She nips his fingers affectionately as he unties the note from her leg. He offers her a piece of bacon before she takes off again and unrolls the parchement, immediately recognising his daddy’s swirly handwriting. 

 

”Want one?” Draco asks, holding out the package of sweets sent by his mother. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles and grabs one without tearing his eyes away from the letter. 

 

”Good news?”

 

”No news, just my dads checking in. They say to say hi as well”, he says and finally looks up.

 

”To me?” Draco says and blinks in surprise. 

 

”Yeah, of course.”

 

”Whoa, you guys”, Blaise says and smooths out his copy of the Daily Prophet. ”Someone’s broken in at Gringotts!”

 

”What?” the others say in unison and crowd together around the boy to get a better look at the headline.

 

”But that’s impossible” Harry says. ”My dads say that Gringotts is the safest place on earth besides Hogwarts, it’s literally impossible to break into!”

 

”Obviously noy”, Seamus says and nods towards the paper. ”What was stolen?”

 

”Well, that’s the weird part”, Blaise says. ”Nothing was taking. Apparently the vault that was broken into had been emptied earlier that same day!”

 

”That’s a weird coincidence”, Seamus mutters.

 

Harry says nothing, but it doesn’t sound like a coincidence at all to him. 

 

At the end of the first week, the Slytherins first Potions lesson was scheduled: double Potions with the Gryffindors, and Harry has mixed feelings as he makes his way to the dungeons with Draco next to him. On the one hand, he’s looking forward to seeing Ron again, because so far this week, they’ve only been able to wave at each other from across the Great Hall. On the other hand, he is a little apprehensive about interacting with the hooked-nosed teacher for the first time. Draco tells him that Severus Snape is a fair teacher and a brilliant Potions Master, but Harry remembers that moment during the Welcome Feast when he’d accidentally locked eyes with the man and got the strong sense that the man really disliked him. Not to mention the pain that had seared through his scar during the eye contact. 

 

At the start of the lesson, Snape had taken the registry and when he reached Harry’s name he paused, then murmured silkily, ”Ah, yes… Harry Potter, out new celebrity…” 

 

His dark eyes flickered up to meet Harry’s and, once again, Harry got the strange sense that the man really disliked him. But the moment was over just as quickly as it had started and Professor Snape continued down the list. He then continued to tell them about the subtle science and exact art of potion-making, and although his voice was barely above a whisper, every word was heard clearly since he, like Professor McGonagall, seemed to possess the gift of keeping a class silent and focused without any effort at all. 

 

”As there is little foolish wand-waving in this class, many of you will hardly believe this is magic and I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — _if_ you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach…”

 

Professor Snape’s dark eyes linger on Harry as he trails off, and Harry tenses up, steeling himself for — something — he isn’t sure, but Professor Snape merely frowns at him, then turns away with a dramatic swirl of robes and barks at the class to get their cauldrons out. 

 

During the lesson, in which they’re instructed to brew a simple potion to cure boils, Professor Snape divides them all into pairs and then stalks around the classroom, critising almost everyone except Draco, whom he seems to like. Harry, although partnered with Draco, doesn’t get off as easily, but it’s still nowhere near as bad as the Gryffindors, with the exception of Hermione Granger but only because Professor Snape can’t find a single thing to criticise, and judging by the scowl on his face it really annoys him that her potion is next to perfect. 

 

A sudden hissing sound distracts him and everyone else though, and they all turn to see Neville Longbottom’s cauldron melting into a twisted blob and his potion seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. A huge cloud of acid green smoke swells and fills the classroom and everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom scramble to stand on their stools, except for Neville who has already been drenched by the potion and is trembling in pain as red boils erupt all over his body. 

 

”Idiot boy!” Professor Snape snarls and towers over him menacingly after having cleared the potion with a careless flick of his wand. ”I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

 

Neville, trembling more than ever but now from fear rather than pain, merely whimpers in response and boils continue popping up across his face. 

 

”Take him up to the hospital wing!” Snape says to Hermione, then rounds on Harry who is sitting across the aisle in the middle of the classroom. ”Potter — why didn’t you warn Longbottom not to put the porcupine quills in? Thought it might make you look better in comparison if he got it wrong, did you?”

 

”N-no, Sir!” Harry says. 

 

Snape takes a point from Slytherin anyway, but almost immediately gives it back after having praised Draco for his and Harry’s potion, the only one besides Hermione’s and Ron’s that is actually successful apparently. Not that Snape seems to think Harry has had anything to do with that success. On the contrary, he seems to think Draco is a potion-making genius and Harry a potential distraction. 

 

”Don’t worry about it”, Draco tells him as they make their way from the Potions classroom at the end of class. ”Professor Snape can be a little prickly sometimes, but he’s brilliant, you’ll see…”

 

”Easy for _you_ to say”, Harry mutters. ”He clearly loves _you_!”

 

”Don’t be silly”, Draco says with a dismissive hand gesture, but Harry can tell his lips are twitching proudly. 

 

Two weeks into term, the first-years have their first flying lesson with Madam Hooch. Slytherin and Gryffindor are scheduled to have their flying lesson together, and Harry is really excited. Despite what he’d told Draco on the first night about secret flying practises, the two have yet to find a time and a place to take turns on his Nimbus 2000, so this lesson will be the first time Harry gets to fly since leaving home. 

 

It’s a clear day, perfect weather conditions to fly, and Harry feels a spring in his steps as he, Draco and Seamus hurry down the front steps of the castle and towards the smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest. The other Slytherins are already waiting for them, but the Gryffindors and Madam Hooch have yet to arrive. Harry and Draco make their way over to two of the brooms laid out on the ground. Draco mutters about sub-standard school brooms and Harry silently agrees, wishing he could have brought his own, but not daring to risk having it confiscated. First-years aren’t allowed to bring their own brooms to Hogwarts after all. 

 

When the Gryffindors and Madam Hooch finally arrives, they’re all instructed to step up to their broomstick, hold out their right hand and command the broom to rise into the air with a simple ” _Up!_ ”

 

”UP!” they all shout. 

 

Harry’s and Draco’s broomsticks shoot off the ground and into their waiting hands immediately, but they’re two of the few brooms that do. Hermione Granger’s merely rolls around indecisively on the ground, and Neville Longbottom’s doesn’t move at all. Draco sniggers as the boy’s plump face grows redder and redder with concentration and embarassment. 

 

When they all had their broomsticks in their hands (Neville had finally bent down to grab his, when Madam Hooch’s back was turned.) The windswept witch blows her whistle and intructs them to mount their respective brooms without sliding off the end, then walks up and down the rows to correct their grips. 

 

Harry gets a nod of approval and grins, then looking around he accidentally locks eyes with Ron who seem to startle and quickly looks away, the tips of his ears turning red.

 

”All right, Ron?” Harry says. 

 

The red-head wips his head around and stares at Harry in surprise. Harry can tell when he glances uncertainly at Draco over his shoulder, but keeps grinning. 

 

”How’s your first weeks been?”

 

”Er… Alright, yeah…” Ron mumbles. ”Charms was okay. Hard though.”

 

Harry nods in agreement, ”Yeah, what about Transfiguration though?”

 

”Oh, the worst! But McGonagall is all right, though — unlike Snape…”

 

”Yeah — and what about Quirrell?”

 

Ron chuckles in agreement, ”Fred and George reckons that story about the zombie in Africa is all bogus, and the real reason he wears that stupid turban is to ward off vampires wherever he goes — haven’t you noticed, it smells kind of funny? Fred and Geroge reckons it’s stuffed full of garlic!”

 

Harry laughs. 

 

”Good”, Madam Hooch says and Harry turns back to the front, his smile still lingering. ”Now, when I blow my whistle, you will kick off the ground hard, then keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly, understand?”

 

Finally, we get to fly, Harry thinks and glances over at Draco to share his excitement, but to his utter shock, the blonde is avoiding his eyes and glaring thunderously at the ground in front of him. 

 

”Draco?” Harry whispers. ”What —?”

 

”Okay then”, Madam Hooch says. ”On my whistle — one — two —”

 

But before Madam Hooch has reached three, Neville, being nervous and jumpy and probably terrified of being the only person left on the ground, pushes off hard and soars aimlessly into the air. 

 

”Come back, boy!” Madam Hooch barks immediately, but Neville continues to shoot into the air like a cork out of a bottle and with just as much control of where he’s going, until finally — twenty feet into the air — the boy glances down and realises how far up he’s got, gives a horrified gasp and promptly slides sideways off his broom. 

 

He lands with a thud on the lawn and whimpers quietly as Madam Hooch runs over to examine him. 

 

”Tut, tut… Broken wrist…” she mutters, then gently helps Neville to his feet. ”Come on, boy — it’s all right — let’s get you to the hospital wind…”

 

She turns to the rest of the class and her yellow eyes narrow, ”None of you is to move until I get back! You leave your brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ’Quidditch’, understand!”

 

She then puts her arm around Neville who hobbles along next to her, his tear-streaked face pale and drawn as he clutches his broken wrist close to his chest. 

 

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Draco lets out a cold laugh, ”Did you see his face, the great lump?” he says to the other Slytherins and Harry frowns. 

 

”Shut up, Malfoy!” Parvati Patil snaps and Pansy Parkinson lets out a high-pitched giggle, ”Ooh, look who’s sticking up for her _boyfriend_ — never thought you’d like fat little cry-babies, Parvati!”

 

”Look!” Draco says suddenly, darting forward and snatching something small and shining from the grass. ”It’s that stupid Rememberall Longbottom’s gran sent him! Too bad the lump didn’t check it before he fell, or he might have remembered to land on his fat arse —!”

 

Harry stifles a sigh and steps up to Draco, holding out his hand for the Rememberall, ”That’s enough, Draco…”

 

The blonde finally turns to meet Harry’s eyes, and Harry feels a shiver run through him as the cold, steel grey eyes bore into him. 

 

”No”, the blonde murmurs coolly. ”I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Fatbottom to find… How about… up a tree?”

 

Draco tosses the Rememberall tauntingly into the air and catches it again, but before Harry can grab it from him, the blonde has kicked off the ground and is soaring towards the top branches of the nearest tree. Harry hesitates for a split-second, then kicks off the ground as well. He leans forward on the broom and speeds after the other Slytherin, pulling up to a stop only feet away from the other boy. 

 

Draco’s eyes flash with worry and his grip on the broom slips slightly as he holds the Rememberall up with his free hand. 

 

”Why are you doing this, Draco?” Harry shouts over the breeze. 

 

”What do you care?” Draco shouts back and when Harry doesn’t answer immediately, his frown turns into a pout. 

 

Harry’s stifles a sigh and slowly drifts a little closer to him. He can tell the other boy is tensing, getting ready to bolt, but he keeps drifting closer and closer to him until their broomsticks are nearly knocking into each other. 

 

”Whatever I’ve done to make you angry with me, there’s no reason to take it out on Longbottom”, Harry says. ”Come on, Draco… Don’t you think he has it hard enough without us making it worse?”

 

Draco blinks in surprise at the word _us_ , and Harry gives him a tentative smile. 

 

”What do you mean _us?_ _I_ took this stupid thing, not you”, he mumbles. 

 

”Yeah, but we’re best friends, aren’t we? So we stick by each other, right?”

 

The steel grey of Draco’s eyes brighten to a silver hue and his lips twitch, then he nods and they both dip their brooms to fly back to the ground. Dismounting his broom, Draco fingers the delicate glass sphere with the tiny cloud of smoke inside uncertainly, then holds it out for Harry to take. 

 

”Give it to Ron, he’ll make sure Neville gets it”, Harry suggests. 

 

Draco frowns a at that and glares over at Ron, but doesn’t say anything, just thursts the glass ball into the redhead’s hand and then promptly looks away. 

 

Later that night Draco is still sulking slightly and Harry decides to let him use his Nimbus 2000 to get him in a better mood, suggesting they sneak out of the dormitory as soon as the other boys have fallen asleep. 

 

”Any idea where we can go, though?” he asks Draco.

 

”Well, I don’t think we should risk going outside or we’re bound to get caught by Filch or Mrs Norris… We’re better off finding some place inside the school.”

 

”Somewhere big enough to fly…”

 

”What about the trophy room — that’s always unlocked.”

 

They wait until the other boys in the first-year dormitory are all snoring and snuffling in their beds, before they pull on their dressing-gowns over their pyjamas and step into their boots. Harry grabs his broom and they sneak silently out of the dorms and across the Common Room. Draco tip-toes up to the door and listens intently to any sounds on the other side and when nothing is heard he gestures for Harry to follow him out into the narrow corridor. 

 

They keep to the shadows and jog as quietly as they can, pausing at every corner to listen for any sign of Filch or Peeves the Poltergeist before they continue further up in the castle. Finally they reach the trophy room, which is indeed unlocked as Draco had said and definitely big enough to fly several feet above the floor. Harry lets Draco go first and sits down crossed-legged in the middle of the room and watches him as he zips between the walls and rounding the dusty old chandelier, his dressing-gown flapping around him. 

 

”Okay, my turn!” Harry calls out after a while. 

 

Draco zooms down and lands smoothly next to him, his eyes glittering and his hair looking almost wind-swept, and Harry’s heart leaps at the sight for some weird reason. Draco hands him the Nimbus 2000 and Harry mounts it, but before he’s had a chance to kick off the ground, a noise in the next room makes them both jump. 

 

”Sniff around, my sweet…” the unmistakable voice of Filch the caretaker can be heard from the other side of the wall and the boys look at each other in horror.

 

They scurry silently towards the door, away from Filch’s voice an no sooner have they snuck through it than they can hear the creaking of the door on the other side of the trophy room and Filch’s wheezing breath as he enters. 

 

”They’re in here somewhere… Probably hiding, my sweet…”

 

”This way”, Harry mouths to Draco and leads the way down a long gallery full of suits of armour. 

 

They can hear Filch getting nearer and nearer. Frightened, they finally break into a run and pelt through the doorway at the end of the gallery and down one corridor then another, before ripping a tapestry aside and hurtling along a hidden passageway behind it until they burst out into the Charms corridor. 

 

”I think we lost him”, Harry pants. 

 

”Yeah”, Draco says breathlessly. 

 

Suddenly a doorknob rattles and something comes shooting out of a nearby classroom, making them both jump. The silvery thing lets out a delighted squeal and zooms around them: it’s Peeves the Poltergeist. 

 

”Shut up, Peeves, please”, Harry begs, but the Poltergeist simply cackles. 

 

”Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut — naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty!”

 

”Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, _please_!”

 

”STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellows happily. ”STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

 

Ducking under Peeves. Harry and Draco run for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slam into a door — but it’s locked. 

 

”This is it, we’re done for!” Harry groans as he rattles the doorhandle desperately but to no effect. 

 

They can hear hobbling footsteps approaching and the unmistakable wheezing sound of Filch heavy breathing. 

 

” _Alohomora_!” Draco exclaims, tapping his wand against the lock on the door and immediately it clicks, and the door swings open. 

 

Harry and Draco tumble inside and Harry quickly slams the door shut again. 

 

” _Which way did they go, Peeves?_ ” Filch bellows excitedly in the other end of the corridor. ” _Quick, tell me!_ ”

 

” _Say ’please’_ ”, the Poltergeist says. 

 

” _Don’t mess me about, Peeves! Where did they go?_ ”

 

” _Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say ’please’…_ ”

 

” _All right,_ please!”

 

” _NOTHING! Ha haaa, ha ha haa haaa! Told you I wouldn’t say_ nothing _if you didn’t say please! Ha ha ha haaa!_ ”

 

Filch swears loudly and Harry and Draco hold their breaths, listening closely as his footsteps disappear and Peeves whooshes away. 

 

Harry can feel his heart hammering wildly in his chest and hears his blood pounding in his ears, the steady soundtrack disrupted only by Draco’s heavy breathing… very heavy breathing… Harry frowns and glances at the other boy, but something isn’t right — Draco seems to still be holding his breath and yet Harry can clearly hear —

 

Draco’s eyes widen in horror and his face drains of what little colour it had to begin with. 

 

Slowly, both boys turn away from the door and look into the room. Except it isn’t a room at all — it’s another corridor — Harry’s heart lurches into his throat and he stares horror-struck at the monstrous dog towering over them… It’s the largest dog Harry has ever seen, it’s paws the size of seals and the heads — _the three heads_ — brushing the ceiling… three sets of blood-shot eyes staring, three quivering noses, three drooling mouths with bared, sharp teeth…

 

Draco whimpers and steps closer to Harry, clutching his arm.

 

”I think we’re in that third floor corridor”, Harry gasps. 

 

”W-w-what—?” Draco hisses. 

 

The three-headed dog starts growling ominously and Draco clutches Harry’s arm so tightly he’s sure he’ll have bruises come morning. 

 

 _If I even live that long_ , he thinks numbly as the dog ducks its three heads and bares its yellowish fangs further. 

 

He gropes blindly for the doorknob behind his back and finally manages to turn it and he and Draco fall backwards and scramble away from the snapping jaws of the dog as it dives after them, Harry kicking the door shut just in time. 

 

He grabs Draco by the arms and pulls him up with him, then grabbing his Nimbus 2000 from where it had clattered to the floor in one hand and interlacing the fingers of his other hand with Draco’s he starts running and doesn’t stop until they’ve reached the hidden door of the Slytherin Common Room. 

 

They both stop to catch their breaths. Draco leans forward and clutches his side. 

 

”That — was close —!” Harry pants. ”And what the Hell — was Dumbledore thinking — letting that — that — _monster_ into the school —?”

 

Draco just shakes his head, still too out of breath to speak. 

 

Suddenly they hear a soft creaking and look up at each other in horror.  The unmistakable sound of footsteps can be heard getting nearer and nearer, but it’s not the uneven hobbling of Filch, rather the swift footfalls of —

 

”What is the meaning of this?” Professor Snape’s silky voice rings out in the quiet and in the next moment his pale face swims out of the darkness in front of them like some ominous moon. ”Draco. Po- _Harry_ … What are you doing out of bed? Have you any idea what time it is?”

 

”S-sorry, Sir”, Draco gasps. 

 

Professor Snape’s gaze flickers between the two of them and the Nimbus 2000 clutched in Harry’s hand and a small frown creeps onto his face. 

 

”Sorry, Sir”, Harry repeats quickly. ”We were just…”

 

”Yes?” Snape hisses expectantly, his dark eyes boring into Harry like he can see right through his skull and into his mind.

 

Harry shivers and quickly looks down, ”Flying, Sir…”

 

”Flying”, Snape repeats. ”I see… So that’s _two_ school rules you’ve broken now. I think that warrants a detention. Congratulations Po- _Harry_ … Draco… You two are the first Slytherins to serve detention this year, you must feel very proud of yourselves.”

 

Harry and Draco glance sideways at each other, but don’t respond. Harry notices that Draco looks paler than usual. 

 

”Well?” Snape demands and Harry quickly whips his head around and meets his eyes again. 

 

”No, Sir”, he says.

 

”Good”, Snape mutters. ”Because I do _not_ want this to become common practise. Rule-breaking might be something that is celebrated in _Gryffindor_ , but in Slytherin we value other traits. Is that understood?”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry mutters, feeling a stab of annoyance that Snape would assume the whole thing had been Harry’s idea and that his Gryffindor tendencies have lead Draco astray, but he says nothing. 

 

”Good”, Snape says again. ”You can report to Filch at ten o'clock on Sunday morning. Now off to bed, both of you.”

 

Harry and Draco make their way across the Slytherin Common Room and inside the boys’ dormitory in silence. Not until they’ve both crawled into their respective beds does Harry speak up and tell Draco he’s sorry for getting him into trouble. 

 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco mutters. ”It was just as much my fault.”

 

”It was my idea, though…”

 

”Yeah, but I wanted to go just as much as you… What do you think they’ll do to us in detention?”

 

”Do to us?” Harry says in confusion. ”What do you mean? They’ll probably have us do lines or scrub some toilets or something…”

 

Draco says nothing but looks a little more like himself and less like he’s about to faint, and Harry can’t help but wonder what stories _his_ dad have told _him_ about Hogwarts… 

 

The next morning, Harry wakes up feeling slightly better about the previous night. Yes, they had been caught by Professor Snape and landed themselves in detention. But considering they were almost eaten alive by a giant, three-headed dog and narrowly escaped unscathed, Harry isn’t all that fussed about it. 

 

”Really though”, he tells Draco during breakfast. ”How can they keep such a dangerous animal in a school? What was Dumbledore thinking?”

 

”Well, it’s clearly guarding something, isn’t it”, Draco says and shrugs. 

 

Harry blinks in confusion, ”What makes you so sure of that?”

 

”Well, it was standing on a trapdoor. Didn’t you see it?”

 

Harry shakes his head. He hadn’t been looking at the monster’s feet, after all. 

 

Despite their pending detention drawing nearer, Harry and Draco wake up on the mornig of Hallowe’en feeling more excited than ever. The smell of baking pumpkins permeate the corridors as they make their way from the dungeons to the Great Hall for breakfast.

 

And when they get to their Charms lesson, Professor Flitwick announces that he thinks they’re ready to try their hands at making objects fly, something they’ve all been looking forward to ever since their first Charms lesson when Flitwick made his own hat zoom around the classroom. 

 

They are all divided into pairs to practise and Harry gets paired up with Draco as usual. 

 

”Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practising!” squeaks Professor Flitwick as he perches on top of a huge pile of books behind his desk. ”Swish and flick, remember? Swish and flick! Also, saying the magic words properly and clearly is very important — remember what happened to Baruffio when he mixed up his ’s’ and ’f’ and found  himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest…”

 

It turns out it’s a lot harder to make a feather soar into the air than it looks. No matter how much Harry swishes and flicks, his practise feather merely spins around feebly on the desk in front of him. He gives an angry huff and the feather leaps into the air. For a split-second he feels a jolt of triumph, but then he realises that the feather’s sudden movement had nothing to do with magic, but was the result of his own breath… Draco giggles next to him and Harry gives him a half-hearted glare. 

 

Suddenly there’s a minor explosion on the other side of Harry, who whips his head around just in time to see Seamus’s feather burst into flames and Harry quickly smothers it with his own hat.

 

Flitwick frowns at them and at the end of the lesson tells them all to practise the spell as homework between now and their next lesson after the weekend. 

 

”We’ve got so much homework already”, Harry moans as they make their way from the Charms corridor. ”Plus we’ve got detention tomorrow…”

 

The moment they enter the Great Hall for the Hallowe’en feast however, all thoughts of detentions and homework are immediately put out of their minds. The entire Hall has been decked out with lavish Hallowe’en decorations and a thousand live bats are fluttering between the walls and the enchanted ceiling, making the candles inside the pumpkins flicker eerily. And just as it had done at the Welcoming Feast, food suddenly appears on the table from out of nowhere and they all begin to tuck in excitedly. 

 

”Draco, did you hear about that mudblood Granger?” Pansy Parkinson says eagerly. 

 

Draco glances at Harry quickly, but doesn’t say anything. Harry pretends not to have heard and helps himself to some pumpkin juice. He can’t stand Pansy, but it’s really up to Draco whom he talks to. 

 

”Apparently she was being a know-it-all in Charms, as usual, and Weasley said something really mean about her and now she’s in the girls’ bathroom crying!” Pansy grins maliciously. ”That’ll teach her, won’t it… To think, not even the Gryffindors want her…”

 

Draco gives a noncommittal shrug and turns his body slightly more towards Harry, opening his mouth to speak… But before he’s got a chance to say anything,  the large oak doors leading to the Entrance Hall glide open with a groan and Professor Quirrell comes pelting inside the Hall, his turban slightly askew and a look of pure terror on his pale face. Every eye in the Hall follow him as he crashes into the High Table in front of Dumbledore and gasps, ”Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know!”

 

His eyes roll back into his head and he crumples to the floor in a dead faint. 

 

For a second, the entire Great Hall is dead quiet save for the fluttering of bat wings. But as the shock lifts, there is an uproar of movement and terrified cries as students jump up from their seats and start fleeing the Hall. 

 

Dumbledore lets out several exploding firecrackers from his wand to get everyone’s attention, then promptly intructs the Prefects of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to lead their charges to their dormitories and the Slytherins to stay in the Great Hall while the teachers follow him to the dungeons. 

 

”Why do we have to stay here?” Pansy demands shrilly, wringing her hands worriedly as the Great Hall steadily empties. 

 

”Because our dorms are in the dungeons!” Harry says and rolls his eyes. ”Where the troll is…”

 

”Oh, right, but… but… what if it doesn’t stay in the dungeons? What if it comes here and all the teachers are gone?”

 

Harry frowns. Pansy has a point. What’s to say the troll stayed in the dungeons while Quirrell made his way to the Great Hall to warn everyone… Just then, the man scrambles to his feet and, readjusting his turban with shaky hands, he hurries out of the Great Hall again. 

 

”Oh great, now we’re really on our own!” Pansy says. 

 

”Like Quirrell would have been much help if the troll shows up!” Seamus says. 

 

”Hey, Pansy”, Harry says. ”What bathroom did you say Hermione Granger was in?”

 

”What?” the girls says. ”Who cares?”

 

”But she doesn’t know about the troll”, Harry says and turns to Draco. ”We need to warn her!”

 

”What? Are you mad?” Draco says incredulously, his already pale face draining of blood at the mere suggestion and making him look as pasty as the Bloody Baron. 

 

”The Gryffindor Prefects probably don’t know she’s there”, Harry argues. 

 

”We don’t know she’s there!”

 

”What are you talking about? We do know, Pansy told us!”

 

”Yeah b-but — that’s not — that’s gossip — don’t know _for sure_ —!”

 

Harry shakes his head dismissively and jumps to his feet, ”I’m going. Are you coming with me or not?”

 

”What?” Cowe pipes up at the other end of the table. ”What’s going on? Potter?”

 

Draco looks horror-struck and just opens and closes his mouth silently a couple of times. Harry frowns, ”Suit yourself…”

 

He jogs up the aisle between the Slytherin and the Hufflepuff table, ignoring Cowe’s demands that he stay put, and it’s not until he’s reaches the doors to the Entrance Hall tgat he hears running footsteps behind him. For a second he thinks Cowe or Lympsham have decided to chase him and force him to stay in the Great Hall, as instructed by Dumbledore, but then he hears Draco’s high-pitched voice, ”W-wait —!” 

 

Harry glances over his shoulder and sees the blonde hurry after him, but he doesn’t say anything. Just waits for him to catch up, then sprints across the Entrance Hall and up the large marble staircase. They slip into a deserted corridor on the third level and start making their way to the nearest girls’ toilet when they suddenly hear quick footsteps behind them. 

 

Draco grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him behind a large stone griffin. Peering around it, Harry is shocked to see Snape walking quickly down the corridor and disappearing round a corner. 

 

”What’s he doing?” he whispers to Draco. ”Why isn’t he in the dungeons with the other teachers?”

 

He gives Draco’s hand a gentle squeeze, then pulls him along from behind the griffin and follow Snape’s fading footsteps. They creep quietly along the next corridor and Harry peers out from behind the corner. 

 

”He’s heading for the third floor corridor, with the three-headed dog”, he whispers. 

 

”H-Harry… Do you s-smell something?” Draco whispers back. 

 

”What?” Harry says in confusion. 

 

But then it hits him… The foulest stench he’s ever come across, like a mixture of old socks and public toilet, washes over him and he almost gags. 

 

”What _is_ that?” he says, slapping his free hand over his nose and mouth. 

 

Before Draco has had a chance to reply, they can hear a low grunting noise and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Draco starts trembling all over and he stares in mute horror at something over Harry’s shoulder. Harry feels his stomach plummet and slowly turns around. 

 

There it is: a twelve-feet tall mountain troll, its’ granite grey body lumpy and stinking, dragging a huge wooden club along the floor and shuffling closer and closer to them.

 

Harry immediately shrinks back into the shadows and pulls Draco with him, hugging him close… They hold their breaths… Harry can feel Draco’s heartbeat against his own… 

 

The troll stops next to an open door and peers inside. Its’ long ears waggle as if it’s listening for something and then it makes it mind up and shuffles inside. 

 

”The key is in the lock”, Harry breathes. ”We could lock it in…”

 

Draco says nothing, just keeps clutching Harry’s arms and staring in shock at the door where the troll had been. Harry gingerly moves out of the blonde’s grasp and edges towards the open door, his heart hammering wildly somewhere in the near vicinity of his throat… _Please don’t let the troll come back out, please don’t let the troll come back out,_ he thinks desperately as he finally reaches the door. 

 

Then with one swift movement he grabs the key and turns it at the same time as shouldering the door shut and the lock clicks into place. 

 

”Oh Merlin…” Draco gasps and slumps against the wall in relief. 

 

Harry grins at him. 

 

They start making their way back, but as they reach the end of the corridor they hear something that makes their blood run cold… a high-pitched, terrified scream… and it seems to be coming from the chamber Harry has just locked, except… _Oh Merlin, it’s not a chamber_ , Harry thinks in panic as he wheels around and stares in horror at the locked door, the door he has just locked, with the troll inside… 

 

”It’s the girls’ toilet!”

 

Draco’s eyelids flutter dangerously, as if he’s about to faint. But Harry grabs him by the arms and shakes him, ”Granger is in there with the troll, we have to save her!”

 

He then grabs Draco by the hand and sprints back to the door. He fumbles with the key in his panic to get the door unlocked, then wrenches it open and tumble inside. 

 

Hermione Granger is backed into the far wall of the bathroom, her entire body shaking like a leaf as she stares up at the gigantic mountain troll slowly advancing on her while knocking sinks off the walls with his club. 

 

Harry stares around wildly, trying to come up with a way of distracting the troll. His gaze lands on a tap that’s been wrenched from a broken sink and grabs it, then with a loud yell he hurls it at the troll. It hits the back of the head with a sickening _crack_ and then falls to the floor again with a _clang_. 

 

”What are you doing?” Draco whispers in panic as the troll stops mere feet away from Granger and instead starts turning around towards them. 

 

”Improvising”, Harry says as the troll’s mean little eyes find him and it starts making for him instead, its huge club raised over his head. ”Granger, move it, come on, _run_!”

 

But the girl remains pressed flat against the wall, clearly too terrified to move. Harry dives under the troll’s arm and skids across the floor, grabbing a metal pipe and hurling it at the troll. It hits its’ shoulder, but the troll barely seems to have noticed, now glaring intently at the petrified Draco instead. 

 

”Hey!” Harry yells. ”Hey, ugly! Over here!”

 

The troll pauses in confusion, turning around with an annoyed roar. Harry runs around it again and hoists himself up on the troll’s back, locking his arms around its’ thick neck and clinging on for dear life. 

 

”Do something!” Harry yells, but both Draco and Granger seem frozen on the spot. 

 

The troll tries to swat Harry away, but Harry manages to hold on. He draws his wand, but before he’s hand a chance to try a spell, the troll starts thrashing around wildly and the wand lodges itself in one if its’ huge nostrils. The troll roars in anger, or pain, Harry isn’t sure. 

 

Finally, the troll gets a hold of one of Harry’s legs and pulls him off and holds him out. Harry dangles upside-down in midair, his arms flailing hopelessly as the troll pulls the club back, about to strike. _This is it_ , Harry thinks. _It’ll club me to death…_

 

”W- Wi- _Wingardium Leviosa_!” Draco shouts desperately then and as the troll swings, the club slips out of his grip and remains floating in midair, held up by Draco’s levitation spell. 

 

The club continues to rise higher and higher in the air. The troll stares up at it in confusion. Suddenly, the club drops and before the troll knows what’s happened, the club hits it hard in the head and he collapses unconscious on the floor, Harry tumbling to the floor next to it. He pulls his wand out of the troll’s nose and wipes the lumpy, grey snot off on its trousers before sticking it in his own pocket. 

 

He turns back to Draco who is staring in shock at the troll, his wand still raised. But before Harry can thank him or say anything at all, there’s a sudden slamming noise outside the bathroom and several loud footsteps approaching. 

 

A moment later, Professor McGonagall bursts into the room, closely followed by Snape and finally Quirrell, who takes one look at the troll and immediately sinks down on top of a toilet clutching his heart with a whimper. 

 

Snape’s eyes dart between Draco, Harry, Granger and the troll, but he says nothing, just walks over to the troll and bends over it. Meanwhile, McGonagall looks between Draco and Harry, her lips pressed thin with barely suppressed rage and her eyes flashing dangerously behind her spectacles. 

 

”Explain yourselves!” she demands. ”Immediately!”

 

Harry glances over at Snape who gives him a percing look and Harry quickly looks down again. 

 

”P-please, Professor”, Hermione Granger pipes up, surprising everyone. ”It’s my fault…”

 

”Miss Granger?”

 

The girl pushes away from the wall and takes an unsteady step forward, wringing her hands anxiously as she gazes at the unconscious troll. 

 

”I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I’ve read all about them.”

 

Draco’s wand clatters to the floor, but no-one pays any attention to it. 

 

”If Potter and Malfoy hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. It was about to finish me off when they got here.”

 

”Miss Granger!” McGonagall gasps in disbelief. ”You foolish girl, how on earth could you possibly think you could take on a full-grown mountain troll on your own?”

 

Hermione hangs her head in shame, and Harry glances over at Draco quickly. The blonde looks just as gobsmacked as Harry feels. _Hermione Granger out-right lying to a teacher… Hell must have frozen over…_

 

”Well, five points will be taken from Gryffindor”, McGonagall says sourly. ”I am very disappointed in you, Miss Granger… If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get back to Gryffindor Tower. _Now._ ”

 

As Hermione leaves, McGonagall rounds on Harry and Draco who are now cowering together in the doorway. Through the corner of his eye, Harry can see Snape pulling himself to his full height, as if getting ready to step in, but he doesn’t. 

 

”Well, I must say”, McGonagall says. ”Not a lot of first-year students can take on mountain troll and live to tell the tale! Ten points each — will be rewarded to you… For sheer, dumb luck!” she adds furiously as Harry and Draco exchange a delighted look. 

 

”Now off to bed both of you!”

 

”Wait”, Snape says swiftly, and they both turn back to the room again. ”I will accompany you.”

 

Snape marches up to them, his big black robes billowing behind him and he pushes them both ahead of him out the door.

 

Once they’re outside in the corridor and away from the foul smell of troll, Harry suddenly notices something odd about the way Snape is walking — He’s limping — But even so, Harry and Draco almost have to jog to keep up with him and the man doesn’t slow down or look directly at them until they’re standing outside the Slytherin Common Room.

 

”I don’t know what happened tonight”, he murmurs. ”But do not think this is the end of it. The Headmaster will be informed of this and… I will have to… contact your parents…”

 

Harry frowns in confusion. He doesn’t care if the school contacts his dads, he was going to write to them and tell them all about it anyway so it doesn’t upset him at all… What’s weird though is that Professor Snape himself seems more upset at the idea of contacting their parents than they do.

 

 _Well,_ Harry thinks, glancing sideways at Draco, _than I do anyways_ …

 

”Now get to bed, both of you”, Snape says. ”You’ll report to Filch for detention at ten o’clock tomorrow evening, is that understood?”

 

”In the evening?” Harry says. ”But the other day you said ten in the morning —”

 

”I know I did”, Snape says silkily. ”But I think tonight’s little escapade deserves something a little more _taxing_ than scrubbing cauldrons…”

 

”What do you think Filch will have us do tomorrow?” Draco whispers as they make their way to the dorms.

 

”Dunno”, Harry mumbles, still thinking about Snape’s limp and the fact that when Draco and he saw him walking towards the third floor corridor he _hadn’t_ been limping at all…

 

The next evening, Harry and Draco, having had to finish all their remaining homework before dinner since they were due to have detention at ten o’clock, run down to the Great Hall at a quarter to ten to quickly shovel some food down before running to Filch’s office to report for detention. But the caretaker isn’t there, and neither is his cat Mrs Norris. Draco grumbles about having had to eat too quickly and get a stomach ache for nothing. 

 

”I’ll go see if he’s in the staff room”, Harry says. ”You stay here in case he shows up.”

 

He doubles back and runs to the staff room in the other end of the same level. He knocks on the door, but there’s no answer. He hesitates for a moment, then with his heart hammering he decides to push the door open and peer inside. 

 

His heart skips a beat at the sight that meet him on the other side of the door. Snape is standing in the middle of the room with his robes pulled up over his knees, exposing his naked legs, one of which is bloody and mangled. Next to him, Filch is hovering uncertainly, looking slightly green in the face as he hands the professor fresh bandages. 

 

”Blasted thing”, Snape mutters darkly as he presses another bit of bandage to his wounded leg. ”How are you supposed to keep your eye on all three heads at once?”

 

Harry quickly ducks his head out again and tries to slide the door shut as quietly as possible, but before he’s managed to, Snape looks up and bellows, ”POTTER!”

 

Harry’s heart does a double tap inside his chest and he swears silently, before pushing the door open again. Snape quickly drops his robes to hide his legs again. His face is twisted with fury. Harry swallows thickly. 

 

”S-sorry”, Harry mumbles. ”I was looking for Filch…”

 

The caretaker immediately scowls suspisciously, but Snape glances at the clock quickly and seems to stifle a curse. 

 

”It’s past ten”, he growls at Filch. 

 

He then turns back to Harry swiftly, pointing a trembling finger at him threateningly. ”Potter! This is the third time you have disregarded a school rule — I _will not_ suffer this kind of disobediant behaviour from one of my students, especially from you, do you understand?”

 

Stricken, Harry flinches back, _especially me, why especially me, what have I ever done to him?_

 

Snape lowers his hand again and pulls himself up to his full height with a deep breath, then gives Harry a nod as if they’ve come to some sort of arrangement. Harry glowers back, but says nothing. He lets Filch grab him by the scruff of his neck and propel him out of the doorway, but fumes silently as they make their way back to the caretaker’s office to collect Draco. 

 

It turns out they’re not to serve detention with Filch after all, but the caretaker is merely escorting them to Hagrid. Harry’s spirits lift considerably when he hears this. From what he remembers, Hagrid is really cool and he would love to spend the evening with him, rather than scrub Snape’s cauldrons, so if Snape thinks he’s just made detention worse for them, he’s quite mistaken…

 

”All right, you two, follow me”, Filch says with a leering grin after he’s grabbed a lantern from his office. ”I bet you’ll think twice about breaking another school rule again, won’t you, eh?”

 

He leads the way outside and across the Hogwarts grounds, muttering about the more effective punishments back in the day. The moon is bright, but wisps of clouds drifting in front of it keeps throwing them into shadow and Harry trips several times as they make their way towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid is waiting for them. 

 

Draco stops dead in his tracks, ”Hang on! Are we — we can’t go into the Forest — at night — there’s all sorts of things in there! Werewolves a-a-and — and —”

 

”That’s your lookout, isn’t it?” Filch says, his voice cracking with glee. ”Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you!”

 

Hagrid walks up to them, his large bloodhound Fang trailing behind him. 

 

”About time ye turned up!” Hagrid says. ”I’ve been waitin’ fer an hour already!”

 

”I’ll be back at dawn”, Filch says, then turns back to the boys with a malicious leer. ”for what’s left of them…”

 

Hagrid snorts, and readjusts the quiver of arrows on his shoulder. Harry notices the crossbow in his hand for the first time, and he wonders if there’s any truth to what Draco said about dangerous things like werewolves in the Forest… 

 

”All right, ye two… come with me…” Hagrid says and starts lumbering back towards the edge of the Forest. ”Now, listen carefully, ’cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight an’ I don’ want no one takin’ unnecessary risks, all right?”

 

He pauses at the very edge of the forest and holds up his lamp, and Harry can see a narrow footpath that disappears into the darkness of the forest. 

 

”Look there”, Hagrid says. ”See that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Tha’ silvery stuff? Tha’s unicorn blood, which means there’s a unicorn in there tha’s badly hurt. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. So, what we’re gonna do is try an’ find the poor thing… We might have ter put it out of its misery an’ all…”

 

”And what if whatever hurt it finds us first?” Draco demands, but there’s a quiver of fear in his voice. 

 

”There’s nothin’ in tha’ forest that’ll hurt ye as long as ye keep on the path, and you’ve got me or Fang with ye… Now, I reckon we should split up —”

 

”Then we want Fang!” Draco says quickly, eyeing the dog’s sharp fangs hopefully. 

 

”All right, Malfoy, ye go with Fang and Harry will go with me —”

 

”What”, Draco yelps. ”No, I don’t want to be on my own! I want to go with Harry!”

 

”Oh, _fine_ ”, Hagrid mutters. ”Ye two go with Fang then, and if ye see anythin’ just send some green sparks up, right?”

 

But how they’re supposed to see anything in the pitch darkness of the Forest is beyond Harry. He keeps tripping over roots and rocks, constantly grabbing Draco’s sleeve to keep himself from falling flat on his face. The blonde barely seems to notice however, he keeps clutching Fang’s lead close to his chest and whipping his head around at the slightest rustle of leaves or crackle of twigs in the darkness surrounding them. 

 

Whenever the moonlight manages to break through the overhead branches of the tightly growing trees, Harry can spot droplets of unicorn blood glinting from the ground, but there is no sign of an actual unicorn — or any other creature for that matter, but Harry has the distinct feeling they are being watched… 

 

Suddenly, they can hear the faint rustling of something slithering over the ground, like a cloak trailing over dead leaves. Harry’s heart hammers hard in his chest and he holds his breath, straining his ears… but whatever it was, moves away from them and soon the sound fades into the night again… 

 

They continue deeper and deeper into the forest until the path is almost impossible to make out because the trees get so thick and close together. They can see some unicorn blood splattered on the roots of an oak, as if the poor creature has been thrashing around in pain. 

 

Finally they reach a small clearing and Harry can see something bright white gleaming on the ground. He holds out his arm to stop Draco and the blonde immediately cowers behind him, whispering in fright, ”What? What is it?”

 

”I think it’s the unicorn”, Harry whispers back. 

 

He cautiously creeps closer to the white thing and when he’s twenty or so feet away from it there’s no mistaking that it _is_ the unicorn and, Harry realises with a sickening jolt, it’s already dead… Harry feels a clenching sensation in his chest. He’s never seen anything so beautiful and so sad at the same time. 

 

Suddenly, he hears the same rustling sound as before, only a lot closer. He tears his eyes away from the dead body of the unicorn and scans the surrounding area quickly. Then he sees it: the bushes just behind the unicorn are quivering… something is moving closer…

 

Harry takes a stumbling step back as a hooded figure suddenly crawls out from the bushes and descends like a shadow over the unicorn. Hary stares tranfixed as the figure bows its head over the large wound in the animal’s side where silvery blood is still pumping forth and — Harry gasps in horror — the hooded figure begins to drink the blood from the wound…

 

”AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Draco lets out a terrified scream behind him and is quickly joined by Fang who howls, before the both of them scramble away from the clearing. 

 

The hooded figure snaps its head up and stares right at Harry, who can only stare in horror, rooted to the spot, as the figure slowly stands up, silvery blood from the unicorn dribbling down its’ front as he prowls around the dead animal and starts advancing on Harry… 

 

A sudden pain sears across Harry’s head and he doubles over, clapping a hand to his forehead as tears well up in his eyes. It feels as though his scar is on fire. He stumbles backwards blindly and trips over a root and sprawls helplessly on the ground. 

 

The figure reaches him and looms over him in the dark. Harry tries blinking the tears away so he can see the figure’s face, because he is now fairly sure that this is not some dark creature at all, but a human. But it’s too dark, and the hood that is pulled down the man’s face casts such deep shadows into his face, that the only thing Harry can make out is the silvery blood running down his chin. 

 

Suddenly there’s the sound of hooves behind Harry and before he knows what’s happened, something has jumped over him and charged the hooded man who immediately scrambles back and bolts. 

 

As the pain steadily eases, Harry manages to get back on his feet and wipes the tears from his face before he tilts his head back and stares up at the centaur that just saved his life; he has white-blond hair and a palomino body, and his eyes are a light blue colour that seems to glow in the darkness. 

 

”T-Thank you”, Harry gasps sincerely. 

 

”Are you all right?” the centaur says in a solemn voice that doesn’t really fit with his young face. 

 

”Yes, I thinks so”, Harry says. 

 

”You are the Potter boy”, the centaur says after a moment’s awkward silence, his sapphire eyes darting to the scar on Harry’s forehead. ”You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time, especially for you… Can you ride? It will be quicker that way… May name is Firenze, by the way.” 

 

The centaur lowers himself on his front legs so that Harry can clamber on top of him, then starts galloping through the forest so quickly that Harry has to hug him tightly so as not to fall off. 

 

”Harry Potter”, Firenze says suddenly, slowing down his pace to a trot. ”Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

 

”No”, Harry says. ”We’ve only ever used the horn and tail-hair in Potions…”

 

”That is because it is a monstrous crime to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose and everything to gain would commit it. You see the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch away from death, but at a terrible price… You have slain something so pure and innocent to save yourself that you will from then on have a half life, a cursed life…”

 

”But who would be that desperate?” Harry says incredulously. ”To be cursed forever, I mean, it’d be better to die, wouldn’t it?”

 

”It would”, Firenze agrees. ”Unless you only needed to stay alive long enough to drink something else, something that would restore all your strength and power, something that will mean you can never die… Harry Potter, do you know what is hidden at Hogwarts at this very moment —?”

 

But Harry doesn’t have a chance to reply, because at that moment Hagrid comes lumbering into their path, with Draco pulling on the sleeves of his moleskin coat desperately trying to make him hurry up. 

 

”Harry!” Draco exclaims in relief and lets go of Hagrid’s sleeves again. 

 

”This is where I leave you, Harry Potter”, Firenze says solemnly and lowers himself so that Harry can slide off him. 

 

Draco immediately comes crashing into him, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug and Harry staggers back slightly but quickly return the embrace. 

 

”Hullo Firenze”, Hagrid greets the centaur. ”Thanks a bunch for helping young ’Arry ’ere…”

 

Firenze bows politely at Hagrid then turns around and gallops into the darkness of the forest again. 

 

”’Arry, you all righ’?” Hagrid asks in concern. 

 

”Yeah I’m fine”, Harry mutters. ”The unicorn’s dead though…”

 

”Yeah, Draco told me…” Hagrid says in a dark voice. ”If I get my hands on whoever did it… But, let’s yous two outta ’ere firs’ eh?”

 

Draco nods eagerly and hurries ahead of them on the path. 

 

”Hagrid”, Harry says. ”Do you know what’s hidden at the school, in that third floor corridor?”

 

”Wha’s tha’?” Hagrid says, a little too casually, and Harry suspects he’d heard him perfectly the first time. 

 

”The third floor corridor, you know, guarded by that three-headed dog”, he insists. 

 

”How d’you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid says in surprise. 

 

”Fluffy? _Fluffy_?” Draco says shrilly, wheeling around so quickly he almost trips over. 

 

”Aye, Fluffy, tha’s ’is name, innit… Gotta ’ave a name don’t ’e…” 

 

Harry and Draco exchange an incredulous look. 

 

”So he’s yours then, the dog?” Harry says. ”So you do know what it’s guarding?”

 

”Never ye mind that!” Hagrid growls, herding them in front of him on the path. ”Ye both forget abou’ Fluffy, ye hear? Forget abou’ Fluffy and wha’ he’s guardin’, tha’ strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, tha’ is…”

 

”Aha! So there’s someone called Nicholas Flamel involved?” Harry exclaims triumphantly. 

 

Hagrid looks furious with himself and refuses to speak another word until they get out of the forest, when he says _good night_ to them and quickly disappears into his hut with Fang. 

 


	5. The Philosopher's Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Holidays and new adventures at Hogwarts.

It’s a weird feeling, getting on board the Hogwarts Express again. On the one hand, Harry can’t believe they’re already halfway through the year and he almost wishes he could slow down time and enjoy everything at Hogwarts thoroughly while he has a chance. On the other hand, he can’t wait to see both his fathers again. 

 

Harry and Draco join the other first-year Slytherins in a compartment in the middle of the train and Draco makes sure he gets the seat next to Harry’s and although each seat is quite large, almost large enough to fit two first-years, Draco sits so close to Harry that they’re touching from shoulder to foot. Harry doesn’t mind, though. He quite likes it. 

 

When the witch with the food trolley pauses outside their compartment, Draco gets up to buy a snack and asks Harry if he wants anything. 

 

”Chocolate frog, please”, Harry says. 

 

As the others gather around the trolley to select their snacks, Harry turns to stare out the window at the hills and houses that whoosh past, and noticing less and less snow on the ground now and thinks they must be getting close to London.

 

Draco settles next to him again, knocking his ankle against Harry’s while making sure their thighs are aligned, and hands him a chocolate frog. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry says with a smile. ”Do you want the card?”

 

”No, you have it”, Draco says and plucks at the plastic wrappings around his box of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum until it peels off.

 

Harry frowns as the blonde pops a piece of gum into his mouth and begins to chew cheerily.

 

”Aren’t you going to eat _anything_?” Harry asks. 

 

”I’m not hungry”, Draco says dismissively around the piece of chewing gum and then starts blowing a large, pink bubble that steadily shifts colours the larger it gets. 

 

Finally the Hogwarts Express pulls into Platform nine and three quarters and the students scramble around, making sure they have all of their things, before filing out of the compartments and jumping off the train. The Slytherin Prefects help the younger students get their trunks onto the platform before wishing them all a happy Christmas.

 

Harry immediately spots Remus and Sirius in the crowd of waiting families and waves eagerly at them. Sirius catches sight of him and waves back before grabbing Remus’s hand and the two of them start making their way towards him. 

 

Draco knocks his shoulder against his, and Harry glances over at him. The blonde smiles thinly. 

 

”Well, I’ll see you in a few weeks then…”

 

Harry smiles back and wraps his arms around Draco in a tight hug. After a moment’s hesitation, Draco hugs him back. 

 

”See you soon”, Harry says and pulls back again. ”Very soon.”

 

Draco nods, glancing over at Remus and Sirius as they approach. 

 

”And don’t forget to ask your parents about Nicholas Flamel”, Harry whispers quickly before he runs into Sirius’s waiting arms and hugs him tightly. 

 

The man lifts him off his feet and spins around with him, causing Harry to giggle. Finally Sirius puts him down again so that he can hug an impatiently waiting Remus as well. 

 

”Oh, we’ve missed you”, Remus murmurs into Harry’s neck before he takes a deep breath, as if inhaling Harry’s scent to reassure himself that he’s real and actually here. 

 

”I’ve missed you too”, Harry says and tightens his arms around the man’s neck.

 

Sirius chuckles fondly next to them and cards his fingers through his husband’s hair, then tries to do the same to the mess that is Harry’s hair and gets stuck for a second. 

 

Remus finally lets go of Harry and grabs his trunk for him. Harry gets a glimpse of Draco and his parents just before they step through the barrier to King’s Cross. 

 

”Hello Remus, Sirius — Happy Christmas!” Molly Weasley says as she ushers her children in front of her towards the barrier. ”Oh, and to you too, Harry dear…”

 

Harry smiles and waves back, and catching Ron’s eyes he waves at him too. 

 

When they get home, Remus lets Harry cuddle with Selina for a while before giving him a lecture about staying out of trouble. Harry has been expecting it ever since Snape said he’d contact his and Draco’s parents and let them know about the incident with the troll, but it still makes his eyes sting slightly to be told off by his daddy. He mumbles an apology, staring down at the floor. 

 

Remus sighs and in the next moment he’s enveloped Harry in his arms and Harry eagerly snuggles closer, burrowing his face into the man’s chest. 

 

”I’m not angry with you”, Remus murmurs. ”But you have to promise me you’ll be more careful, you know your dad and I worry about you enough as it is…”

 

Harry nods against his chest, but says nothing. He’s got a lump in hos throat and doesn’t trust his voice enough to say _sorry_ again. 

 

On Christmas morning Harry wakes up to find a considerable amount of presents at the foot of his bed. Most of them have Remus’s swirly handwriting on the labels, but he recognises Draco’s delicate scrawl on one as well and then there’s one without a label at all. Harry brings all of them out into the sitting room and places them beneath the Christmas tree to be opened after breakfast together with his dads. 

 

They manage to finish their Christmas rice pudding in the kitchen, but are still nursing their drinks when Harry’s impatient fidgeting gets so bad he accidentally bangs his knee on the underside of the table top and knocks over his mug. Hot chocolate spills everywhere and some drip over the edge of the table and burn Harry’s bare foot. Remus vanishes the mess and refills Harry’s mug for him with an indulgent sigh, and then suggest they bring their chocolate and coffee into the sitting room.

 

Harry eagerly collapses on the floor next to the Christmas tree and selects a present each for them to open. Remus gets one of his presents from Harry — a book called _Hairy snout, human heart_ that Sirius helped Harry pick out and pay for — and his wide eyes flit over to Sirius briefly before he turns back to Harry with a warm smile and says _thank you_ ; Sirius unwraps a new leather jacket that Remus has got for him and kisses him to say _thanks_ ; Harry has chosen his present from Draco first and tears the wrapping paper off excitedly, beaming when a large box of chocolate frogs in unveiled, along with a Christmas card that Draco must have made himself, because the little moving drawing on the front depicts two boys flying together in the sky, one with white-blond hair and one with dark hair, round glasses and a small scar shaped like a lightening bolt on the forehead. 

 

”May I have a look?” Remus says and Harry hands him the card. ”Oh wow… That’s really sweet. Look, Sirius…”

 

Remus hands the card to his husband and the two exchange a fond look.

 

”I’m glad it worked out”, Remus tells Harry. ”So I take it he’s not as stuck-up and mean as you thought?”

 

”Well…” Harry says awkwardly. ”Not really, but he can be sometimes. But he’s got much better.”

 

They continue to make their way through the pile of presents until Remus and Sirius have opened all of theirs and Harry only has two more left, one with Remus’s handwriting on the label and the mysterious one without a label at all. Harry gives Sirius a questioning look as he picks it up, after having unwrapped the copy of _Quidditch Through The Ages_ he’s dads have given him, but Sirius shakes his head. 

 

Harry shrugs and starts tearing the wrapping paper off, _what better way to find out…_

 

Something fluid and silvery grey tumbles out of the wrapping and lands in a small pile on the floor in front of Harry, it’s many folds gleaming in the light from the Christmas tree. Through the corner of his eye, Harry sees Remus sit up a little straighter in the sofa and he can hear Sirius gasp softly. 

 

”What is it?” he asks and pinches the silky fabric between his fingers gingerly, marvelling at the strange feel of it, like water has been woven into the material somehow. 

 

”It’s an Invisibility Cloak”, Sirius says immediately, his voice sounding strangely thick. 

 

Harry glances between him and Remus, noticing the tension in their faces suddenly. 

 

”There’s a note, Harry”, Remus says quietly and points to a piece of parchment on the floor. 

 

Harry picks it up. He doesn’t recognise the handwriting at all, but it’s almost as swirly as Remus’s so he guesses whoever sent it must be an adult and probably a scholar like his daddy. He begins to read it out loud: 

 

” _Dear Harry… Your fath—_ ” 

 

Harry’s breath hitches and he’s keenly aware of his dads’ intense eyes on him. A lump has started growing in his throat, he tries to clear it but it doesn’t help. 

 

Remus puts his hand on top of Harry’s and gently pries the note from him, and then clearing his throat softly he begins to read: 

 

_”Dear Harry, your father left this in my possession before he — before he died… It is time it was returned to you. Use it well… A very merry Christmas to you.”_

 

Harry’s mind is whirring, and his chest feels oddly tight. He peers up at his dads’ through his lashes, trying to gauge their reactions, but both men sit perfectly still and avoid each other’s and Harry’s eyes. 

 

Finally Remus looks up and meets Harry’s gaze. Smiling a little sadly, he reaches out and strokes Harry over the head. 

 

”Harry, your mother and father would be so proud of you”, he murmurs. ”As is your dad and I… Okay?”

 

Harry nods, his chest unclenching again. 

 

”Very proud”, Sirius agrees. 

 

”Well… I think I need some more hot chocolate”, Remus says breezily and pushes to his feet. ”Harry, do you want another cup?”

 

After they’ve listened to the Christmas Concert on the wireless and Harry has begun to doze off in-between his dads on the sofa, Remus gently shakes him awake. Sirius hugs him good night and wishes him happy christmas for a final time, then Remus guides him to his bedroom and tucks him in. 

 

”I’m not a kid, you don’t have to”, Harry mumbles sleepily but moves into Remus’s caress when the man strokes his head. 

 

”Sorry, old habits die hard”, Remus mumbles and Harry can _hear_ the smile in his voice. ”Harry, don’t fall asleep yet, I need to tell you something…”

 

Harry blinks his eyes open and peers up at his daddy. 

 

”You’re going to have to go back to Hogwarts a few days earlier, okay?”

 

”What?” Harry says in a small voice and starts to sit up, but Remus puts a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes him down again before taking a seat at the egde of the bed. ”Why?”

 

”I’m really sorry, Harry. But your dad needs to go away for a few days for work…”

 

”So? Why can’t I stay here with you?”

 

Remus eyes darts between Harry’s hands on top of the cover and his own in his lap and swallows a couple of times, then sighs and says ”I need to go away too… You know I need to travel sometimes—”

 

Harry feels his stomach sink and glares bitterly at his Tornados’ poster on the wall. Remus sighs again and grabs one of Harry’s hands in his and squeezes gently. 

 

”I promise you, I’ll explain everything when —”

 

”—when I’m older”, Harry cuts in. ”Yeah I know.”

 

Harry is still moping about it the next morning, and not even Selina’s playful mood is enough to shake him out of his thoughts. Finally, at lunch, Remus offers to contact the Malfoys to see if they can arrange for Harry and Draco to get together one day before Harry has to go back to Hogwarts and Harry looks up excitedly then, his half-eaten lunch forgotten. 

 

”Really?” he says. ”Can you do it now?”

 

”No, not right now, Harry. I’m still eating…”

 

”Yeah yeah yeah, but after — after you’ve finished — can you floo them then?”

 

”All right”, Remus says patiently. ”But only if you finish eating as well… You’ve barely touched your Shepard’s pie…”

 

That’s not true, Harry has had quite a lot of Shepard’s pie and his belt is already digging into his stomach painfully, but he shovels a few more bites into his mouth anyway, so as not to give Remus an excuse to take back his offer. 

 

Remus manages to get a hold of Draco’s mother, Narcissa Malfoy, and the two of them arrange for Harry to visit Draco at Malfoy Manor on the weekend before he has to head back to Hogwarts. 

 

Harry is so excited he can barely sleep a wink all night and asks whether he can have coffee instead of chocolate at breakfast, but Sirius lets him try a sip from his cup and Harry immediately pulls a face at the bitter taste and opts for chocolate in the end after all. 

 

At the agreed-upon time, Harry steps into the fireplace and floos to Malfoy Manor and he’s barely stopped spinning when something quite heavy crashes into him and knocks him backwards off his feet. He sprawls in the huge fireplace, Draco draped on top of him, as the last green flames flicker out around them. 

 

”Draco”, a woman’s voice admonishes gently from somewhere in the room and the two of them scramble to their feet awkwardly, grinning at each other. 

 

Harry brushes the soot off and looks around with interest. The sitting room is huge. It looks like a ballroom. Narcissa Malfoy stands in the middle of the room with her hands clasped in front of her, the glow of the gigantic chandelier hanging above her head making her white-blonde hair glow golden. Harry smiles at her. 

 

”Hello Harry, we’re so pleased to have you visit our home… Draco, do show Harry to your room and I will have Dobby send up some treats for you.”

 

”Come on”, Draco says and grabs Harry’s hand. 

 

He leads Harry through the maze-like lower level of the manor, then up a sparkling black marble staircase. At the other end of a vast corridor lined with huge, intricate portraits of the Malfoy family members, Draco opens a door and lets Harry enter first. 

 

The room is quite large, like all the other rooms they’ve passed, with a high ceiling. An ancient four-poster bed similar to the ones at Hogwarts, except larger and with indigo silk hangings instead of emerald, take up a fourth of the room. Next to it stands a massive, 17th century desk and chair. One wall is taken up completely by wardrobes and another by floor to ceiling windows. There aren’t any toys anywhere and Harry can’t see Draco’s Nimbus 2000 either, but he suspects all his things are probably neatly stuffed away in one of the wardrobes. 

 

”That’s an amazing view”, Harry comments as he steps closer to the nearest window. 

 

”Yeah, I know. It’s taken me a while to get used to though. When I was younger I had this fear of heights… But now I don’t mind it at all.”

 

Suddenly, a tea tray with an assortment of biscuits appear out of thin air and Draco immediately sets about pouring them a cup of tea each. 

 

Harry and Draco spend most of the afternoon in Draco’s room, talking and playing Wizard Chess. At one point, Narcissa shows up rapping her knuckles gently on the doorframe and asking Harry whether he would like to join them for dinner, then suggests Draco take Harry outside and give him a tour of the grounds. 

 

It turns out the grounds are almost as big as the grounds at Hogwarts, but according to Draco there isn’t much to see, so they take turns flying his Nimbus 2000 and then stroll around the rose garden for a while until the dinner bell chimes. 

 

”So have you had a chance to ask your parents about Nicholas Flamel?” Harry asks as they make their way back to the manor. 

 

”Yeah, father says he’s a rather well-respected alchemist, but he didn’t know much more about him than that…”

 

”I’m sure I’ve read his name somewhere though”, Harry mutters. ”And it’s not in any of my books, I’ve checked… Did you say he’s an alchemist? Like he makes gold?”

 

”I guess”, Draco says with a shrug. ”I’ll ask mother as well, when it’s just the two of us… sometimes she knows more than she lets on when anyone else is around. What about your dads, had they heard of Flamel?”

 

”No”, Harry says heavily. ”And they got really suspiscious when I wouldn’t tell them why I wanted to know, so I’m not risking it again.”

 

When Harry tells Draco that he’s going to have to go back to Hogwarts earlier because both his dads will be travelling, Draco looks even more appalled than Harry had felt when Remus revealed this plan to him the first time. At dinner, Draco tries to convince his parents to let him go back early as well, so that Harry will have someone to keep him company since he’ll likely be the only Slytherin back early from the holidays. 

 

Lucius and Narcissa exchange a subtle look. 

 

”Please?” Draco wheedles, turning his pleading eyes from Lucius to Narcissa. 

 

”We’ll discuss it later”, Lucius says smoothly. 

 

”That means no”, Draco mutters sullenly to Harry. 

 

”Draco”, Narcissa says sharply. ”Where are your manners.”

 

Draco automatically sits up straighter in his seat and promptly speers a tiny piece of potato on his fork and puts in his mouth. His cheeks turn a subtle tint of pink as he chews mechanically, frowning at his plate. 

 

When Harry floos back home, both his dads are waiting for him in the kitchen, looking slightly apprehensive until Harry beams at them. 

 

”So did you have a good time?” Remus says happily as he hugs him, his face smoothing out with relief. 

 

”Yeah, a great time!” Harry says. ”We played chess and took turns flying on Draco’s broom — next time I’m going to bring my Nimbus so we can fly together — and then we just walked around in the garden — they have this massive rose garden with all these amazing different roses — and we just walked around and talked, and then we had dinner and then I came home!”

 

”Yeah, that sounds like a great time”, Sirius says and ruffles Harry’s already windswept hair. ”So are you feeling better about—?”

 

Remus shoots Sirius an exasperated look, and the other man’s face falls. Harry feels his excitement stutter at the reminder that he’s going to have to go back to Hogwarts sooner than he’d expected, but he shakes off his renewed disappointment and forces himself to keep smiling. 

 

”Yeah, it’s fine”, he says. ”I understand.”

 

None of them have mentioned the Invisibility Cloak since Christmas morning and it’s not until Harry begins to pack his trunk that Remus brings it up when he suggests Harry leave it at home. 

 

”What? Why?” Harry protests. 

 

”I don’t want you getting into any more trouble, Harry”, Remus says in his sternest voice, but his frown quickly fades as Harry pouts. ”You do not need an Invisibility Cloak while at Hogwarts… Stop looking at me like that, Harry…”

 

”I won’t get into trouble!” Harry insists and barely refrains from stomping his foot in frustration. 

 

”Moony, let him take the Cloak, what harm will it do…” Sirius says. 

 

Remus shoots him a sharp look, but eventually gives up and allows Harry to pack the Cloak on the condition that he does not use it to break any more school rules or put himself in any dangerous situations. Harry eagerly agrees to the terms and gently folds the Invisibilty Cloak and puts in on top of all his other belongings in the trunk. He can’t wait to show it to Draco… 

 

The next day, Sirius drives Harry to King’s Cross in his flying motorcycle and helps Harry find platform eleven and a quarter, from which he can catch a northbound train that will stop at Hogsmeade. 

 

Harry feels heavy, like someone’s poured lead into his limbs and can’t bring himself to meet his dad’s eyes when it’s time to say _goodbye_. 

 

Sirius crouches down in front of him and puts a hand on top of his shoulder that weighs Harry down even more and he staggers a little under it. 

 

”Harry, Remus feels really awful about sending you away earlier and not coming to see you off today…”

 

”Whatever”, Harry mumbles thickly. 

 

”You’ll be fine, you’ll see, there are always at least a handfull of students left at Hogwarts during the hols, so you won’t be alone… and you’ve got Hedwig with you!” he adds with a grin as the bird hoots from inside her cage. ”I really am sorry though, but something came up at work and you know I’m not allowed to talk about it, but… It’s just a really unlucky coincidence that it should coincide with the f- I mean — with — with one of your daddy’s trips, yeah?”

 

Harry frowns. It’s not that he doesn’t understand, because he does. But he just doesn’t like the idea that his dads’ are keeping secrets from him. He’s not a little child anymore; he’s eleven; he goes to Hogwarts now!

 

”Come on, let’s find you a seat…” Sirius says bracingly and claps him on the shoulder, before grabbing his trunk for him.

 

They board the train and Sirius finds Harry a seat in a compartment with an elderly witch and stows Harry’s trunk underneath his seat.

 

”And when you get to Hogsmeade, just ask the conductor to help you lift it onto the platform, okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry says and nods quickly, his stomach churning with nerves now that he’s about to say goodbye to his dad again. 

 

”And then you should be fine dragging it across the platform to the carriage, right? They are sending a carriage for you, aren't they?"

 

”Yeah”, Harry nods. "Daddy made sure."

 

”All right then… Well, look after yourself then, Harry… and I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

 

Harry swallows thickly, then launches himself at his dad and hugs him tightly. Sirius hugs him back and strokes his hair gently. The elderly witch watches them with misty eyes and smiles kindly at Harry when he takes the seat opposite her and waves at Sirius through the window as the train starts pulling away from the platform. 

 

”Hogwarts, is it?” she asks him in a brittle voice and Harry nods politely. ”Ah yes, I remember my first year at Hogwarts… What house are you in, boy? I was a Hufflepuff myself… Ah yes, what a glorious time it was…”

 

Harry tunes out the old witch’s musings after a while, when it becomes clear that she’s not paying enough attention to him to see whether he’s actually listening or not, and stares out the window instead… He thinks about his daddy’s mysterious travels that he’s apparently still too young to know the reason for… He thinks about Nicholas Flamel the alchemist and where he might have read his name, since he’s not in the habit of reading books about alchemy… He thinks about Draco… 

 

It turns out that the blonde had been right. Harry is the only Slytherin back early from the holidays and it’s the strangest feeling to have the entire Slytherin Common Room to himself. He curls up in an armchair in front of the big fireplace and stares mesmerized as the flames lick the inner wall. He is just about to get up and go to bed, when the door to the Common Room slides open and Professor Snape strides in with his robes billowing around him. Harry startles and sits up straighter. 

 

”Harry”, Snape greets cordially and gives him a tiny nod. ”I trust you had a good Christmas.”

 

Harry blinks in shock. Not that he’s had an opportunity to break any more school rules since he got back a few hours ago, but it would still have surprised him _less_ if Snape had showed up to give him detention rather than wish him a happy christmas. 

 

Snape’s eyes flit away from Harry’s face and he glares half-heartedly at one of the Slytherin crests on the wall next to the fireplace. 

 

”It’s late. You should go to bed”, he says shortly. 

 

”Yeah, I… I was just about to… Sir”, Harry mumbles. 

 

Snape nods again, and without as much as another glance in Harry’s direction, he twirls around and stalks out of the Common Room again. 

 

Harry makes his way to the boys dormitory and changes into his pyjamas. He is just about to climb into bed, when the gleaming material of the Invisibility Cloak catches his eye and he has a sudden idea… With the Cloak on, he can go anywhere in the castle without Filch or Snape being able to catch him… He could even go into the Restricted Section in the library and look for references to Nicholas Flamel… Making his mind up, Harry quickly puts the Cloak on and looking down at himself, instead of his pyjama-clad legs, he sees only the dim light from the lanterns as it bounces off the flagged stone floor. It’s a very weird feeling. He pulls the Cloak over his head so that all of him is invisible, then sneaks out of the dorms. 

 

The library is pitch black and eerie. Harry grabs a lamp and lights it, holding it out in front of him so that it appears to be floating along in mid-air. The Restricted Section is at the very back of the library and Harry lifts his legs very carefully underneath the Cloak as he steps over the rope that separates the restricted books from the rest. 

 

He scans the titles, looking for anything to do with alchemy but finds nothing. Instead his eyes come to rest on a large, black and silver book titled _The Book Of Screams_ and, curious, Harry pulls it out and balances it on his knee. As it falls open, a piercing, blood-curdling shriek rings out in the silence and Harry shuts the book again in panic, his heart hammering wildly in his chest, but the book continues screaming. 

 

Harry hurriedly puts it back on the shelf and makes a run for it. He almost collides with an out-of-breath Filch as the caretaker comes hobbling into the library, but Harry manages to dive under the man’s arm and streaks off down the corridor. 

 

Harry finally comes to a stop next to a suit of armour and tries to catch his breath. He’d been so intent on escaping Filch, that he hadn’t really paid attention to where he was going and now, looking around, he has no idea where he is… 

 

”You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody’s been in the library just now — in the Restricted Section”, Filch’s wheezing voice can suddenly be heard in the darkness and Harry feels the blood run from his face — whereever he is, Filch must have known a short-cut — and to Harry’s horror, none other than Severus Snape steps out of the shadows. 

 

”The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t have got far, we’ll catch them…”

 

 _If they do,_ Harry thinks desperately. _If they catch me now, after Snape told me himself to go to bed, I’ll definitely be expelled._

 

As horrible as that thought is, when Harry thinks of his dads, he feels even worse. Because what would happen if he gets expelled tonight? They would send him home again, on the first train in the morning. Except no-one will be there waiting for him. The house will be empty, and Harry has no idea when either of his dads will be back again… 

 

 

 _I need to get back to the dorm before Snape decides to check on me,_ he thinks and starts inching backwards as silently as possible. But to his horror, Filch and Snape don’t continue further down the corridor, they start stalking towards Harry. 

 

It only takes Harry a split-second to realise that the corridor is too narrow for both wizards to pass him. The Cloak might make him invisible, but it doesn’t stop him being solid, after all. 

 

Harry backs away faster, feeling along the wall for a corner or a doorway, and to his immense relief, there is a door left ajar. He manages to slip inside just as Snape reaches him and the man walks past none the wiser.

 

Harry leans back against the wall next to the door and breathes a sigh of relief. Now he just needs to  find his way back to the dungeons before Snape gets there… 

 

But something catches his eye, distracting him… He squints into the darkness of the room… There it is again, something glinting in the far end of the room. He pushes away from the wall and walks closer to it… 

 

It’s a massive mirror propped up against the far wall, as high as the ceiling and with a beautiful gold frame into which is carved: ” _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi”_

 

And the thing that had caught Harry’s eye, turns out to be the reflected light of the fullmoon outside the window next to it. 

 

Harry steps closer to the mirror to get a better look — his heart stutters in his chest and he has to clap a hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming in shock — he quickly whirls around and scans the room behind him, but it’s completely empty… He is the only living being in this room, and yet… 

 

He turns back to the mirror again; he can see himself exactly as he is — but he can also see his dads standing at his right shoulder, beaming lovingly at him… and, even more shockingly, he can see Lily and James Potter at his left shoulder, smiling just as lovingly… and behind the four adults, Harry can see Ron and the Weasley twins, his fellow Slytherin first-years, Draco being the closest, and at his feet are Selina and Hedwig.

 

The whole thing is just too weird, Harry decides and doubles back to the door. He has to make it back to the Slytherin dorms before Snape gets back to the dungeons, in case he decides to make sure Harry really is in his bed…

 

By some miracle, Harry manages to find his way back to the dungeons and sneak into Slytherin Common Room undetected. He quickly slides under the cover of his bed and curls up on his side, and before he knows it, he’s fallen asleep.

 

When Harry goes up to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, he notices that the other students have all forgone their house tables and are sitting together at the far end of the Hufflepuff table, joined by Professor Dumbledore and a handfull of teachers, including Snape. Harry sidles up to his Head of House and cautiously slides into the seat next to him. 

 

”Ah, Harry, welcome back my boy!” Professor Dumbledore exclaims. ”I trust you had a good holiday?”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says quickly. ”Thank you.”

 

”Good, good… Help yourself to breakfast.”

 

Harry gives him a tight smile and reaches for the rice pudding, only then noticing Ron Weasley in the seat opposite him, bookended by the twins, all of them wearing matching jumpers with big, golden letters on the front. Ron’s has an R, presumably for ”Ron” and the twins have a G and an F on theirs. 

 

”Hullo”, Harry says. ”How come you’re not with the rest of your family?”

 

”Mum and dad decided to visit Charlie in Romania, so we got to spend Christmas here”, Ron says. ”What about you? Haven’t seen you since the end of term…”

 

”I just got here yesterday”, Harry says. ”My dads were called away unexpectedly…”

 

Harry can tell that only made the Weasleys more curious, but he’s uncomfortably aware of everyone else around the table listening in, so he quickly changes the subject as asks Ron what he got for Christmas. 

 

Harry and Ron continue talking, even as they finish their breakfast and leave the Great Hall. The twins bounce past them and bound towards the doors, pulling on hats and gloves. Harry and Ron watch them go and then peer at each other shyly, as it becomes suddenly clear that they will need to part ways if they’re going to go to their Common Rooms… Harry doesn’t really feel like going to the Slytherin Common Room. It’s not as fun when you’re on your own. But he can’t exactly bring Ron with him, and he’s pretty sure a Slytherin wouldn’t be allowed into the Gryffindor Common Room either. _Where else could we go?_

 

”Hey, do you want to go with me to the library?” he says suddenly. 

 

”Er — the library?” Ron says, looking a little less than excited at the idea. ”Okay, I guess we could go there…”

 

Once they’re seated at a table in the far corner of the library, out of earshot of the hawk-like Madam Pince, Harry decides to tell Ron about the three-headed dog, thinking it can only be good with a new perspective… By the time he’s finished telling him the story of how he and Draco narrowly escaped, Ron’s eyes are wide as saucers and he’s looking a lot paler underneath his freckles. 

 

”Blimey… How can they keep a beast like that in a school?”

 

”I know, that’s what I thought!” Harry says. ”But then Draco noticed something that I didn’t, and that’s that it was standing on a trapdoor, so we think it’s guarding something — and listen — when we were in the Dark Forest with Hagrid —”

 

”You were in the Forbidden Forest —?” Ron gasps incredulously. 

 

”Yeah, with Hagrid, as detention”, Harry says quickly. 

 

Then he tells Ron all about the hooded figure drinking blood from the unicorn and meeting the centaur Firenze who had started to tell Harry about the thing that’s hidden in the castle before they were interrupted by Hagrid and Draco. 

 

”And then Hagrid let slip that whatever Fluffy is guarding is between Dumbledore and someone called Nicholas Flamel…”

 

”Nicholas Flamel? Who’s that?”

 

”Some alchemist, apparently. We don’t know exactly. And we still have no idea what Fluffy is guarding, but there is someone out there in the forest, someone who’s not supposed to be there, and they want whatever it is… By the sounds of it, they’ll do anything to get their hands on it…”

 

”And you said your scar hurt when they got close to you? Has that ever happened before?”

 

”No — well, actually, yes — once — but…” Harry thinks back to the Welcoming Feast at the start of the year and the first time he saw Snape… Could it have been him in the forest? _No_ , Harry thinks. _I see him every day, and my scar doesn’t hurt all the time, does it?_

 

And then he remembers Hallowe’en. Snape had definitely tried to get past Fluffy then, and he’d got his leg mangled up for this troubles… _How did I not see this before?_ Harry thinks wildly. _Snape is trying to get whatever Fluffy is guarding!_

 

”How could I have been so stupid”, he mutters. ”It’s Snape! It has to be!”

 

”Snape?” Ron says uncertainly. ”You really think — a teacher —?”

 

”Yes, I do”, Harry says urgently, and then tells Ron about Hallowe’en, and walking in on Snape bandaging his bloody leg. 

 

”Blimey, you don’t sit around do you…” Ron says faintly. ”I mean, Hermione did tell us about the troll, but… still…”

 

”If only we knew what Snape is after, what Fluffy is guarding…”

 

”Well, you said this Flamel guy had something to do with it, right?”

 

Harry nods, ”But we’ve looked through almost every book in the library and we can’t find anything on him…”

 

”Give me ten minutes, I’ll be right back!” Ron says and makes a run for the door, but immediately slows to a quieter walking pace when Madam Pince hushes him aggressively. 

 

He comes back a few minutes later, panting heavily but grinning from ear to ear. Harry gives him a questioning look and he hands him a Chocolate Frog Card… 

 

 _”Nicholas Flamel — the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone, with his partner Albus Dumbledore. Enjoys opera and—_ ” Harry trails off and then looks up at Ron with wide eyes. ”This is it, Ron! This Stone, that’s what Snape’s after!”

 

”You think?” Ron whispers, but there’s a gleam of excitement in his eyes as well. 

 

The last few days of the Christmas holiday pass surprisingly quickly once Harry starts hanging out with Ron and the twins. They spend the majority of the days outside in the castle grounds, pelting snowballs at each other and making snow men. One day the twins bewitch a few snowballs to chase after Quirrell and keep bouncing off the back of his turban, until finally McGonagall catches them and assigns them detention to be served as soon as term starts again. 

 

Harry has got so used to sitting with the Weasleys at the Hufflepuff table that it feels weird to go sit in opposite ends of the Great Hall again once term starts. But at least Draco is back again and Harry gets to catch up with him instead. 

 

Later that night, Draco reveals that he’s smuggled his broomstick out of Malfoy Manor and into Hogwarts, which means they can finally fly together instead of taking turns, if they ever sneak out for a bit of secret practising again. 

 

”Yeah, but let’s not do it in the trophy room this time”, Harry whispers from his own bed. 

 

”Well, where else do you have in mind?” Draco whispers back. 

 

”Outside”, Harry says simply. ”I got something for Christmas that will help us sneak out unseen, I promise… Then we’ll just have to make sure we’re far enough away from the castle so we won’t be seen from the windows…”

 

”I — I don’t know —” Draco mutters uncertainly. 

 

”Oh, come on, Draco! It will be great! We’ll do it at night, there’s no way anyone will see us!”

 

It takes some persuading, but by the end of the term’s first week, Harry finally manages to lure Draco out the safety of their dorm after curfew. Ha drapes the Invisibility Cloak over the both of them, taking extra care to make sure it reaches the floor on all sides, so none of their feet can be seen under the hem. 

 

Draco is so awed by the Cloak the he doesn’t get cold feet until he literally gets cold feet, when they step outside the castle doors, and he stops dead in his tracks and stares wild-eyed at Harry like he can’t believe where they are. 

 

”Come on, it will be okay…” Harry whispers and gives him an encouraging smile. ”Draco… we’re invisible!”

 

That seems to work, because the other boy loses some of the panic in his eyes and he glances around hesitantly. The grounds are dead quiet and the every window of the castle is dark. He takes a deep breath and finally nods. Harry beams at him and before he’s really thought about what he’s doing, he’s leaned in to give the other boy a peck on the cheek. 

 

Draco flinches back and stares at him in surprise. Harry blinks rapidly, his face falling. _Shit, why did I do that for,_ he thinks furiously. But Draco doesn’t seem angry with him exactly. In fact, after the initial shock has cleared, a small smile flickers onto his face. 

 

Harry stifles a sigh of relief and just jerks his head to signal they get moving again. 

 

They make their way across the grounds towards the Quidditch pitch, but halfway there Harry slows down and then finally stops. 

 

”What is it?” Draco whispers and with a hint of hope in his voice he adds, ”Do you want to go back?”

 

”No, I was just thinking… The Quidditch field is too open and we’d be silhouetted against the sky, look… If someone were to look out a window, they’d definitely see us if we fly there…”

 

”So wha—?”

 

”I think we should go this way”, Harry says and jerks his head towards Hagrid’s hut instead. ”I think we should fly next to the edge of the forest, there’s no way we’d be seen with the trees behind us.”

 

”The f-forest? Are you mad—?”

 

”I’m not saying go inside it. Just fly around the edge of it… It’ll be perfectly safe, and there’s no way we can get caught.”

 

Draco finally gives in and they make their way towards the forest instead. Once they’re at the edge, right next to the path that Hagrid had taken them on that time when they served detention with him, Harry pulls the Invisiblity Cloak off them and stuffs it into his pocket. 

 

They mount their brooms and kick off the ground. Swooping and swerving around each other in the air, the two boys start to relax more and more. It’s the most exhilarating feeling to be flying, and now for the first time ever, Harry gets to share the experience with Draco. He feels on top of the world… and judging by the ecstatic look on Draco’s face, he’d say he’s not the only one. 

 

Suddenly, Harry sees movement through the corner of his eye and swerves around. A hooded figure is running down front steps of the castle and heading towards them. Harry’s heart jolts and he looks around for Draco, waving at him urgently. 

 

”What?” Draco gasps happily as he swoops down next to him. 

 

”We have to hide”, Harry hisses. ”We’ll fly in amongst the trees — not far! Just so we can hide behind the first ones!”

 

Draco opens his mouth to protest, but Harry just grabs his arm and sets off towards the branches of the first few trees. Just as they’ve hidden, the hooded figure comes striding over the lawn towards them and Harry would recognise that stalking prowl anywhere… 

 

”It’s Snape”, he whispers. 

 

”Think he’s seen us?” Draco breathes, craning his neck slightly and peering out from behind a branch. 

 

”No… He’s not looking up… But he’s heading towards the forest…”

 

Harry remembers the hooded figure he’d seen drink the blood from the unicorn and his stomach clenches uncomfortable… _Could that really have been Snape?_

 

”What’s he doing?” Draco breathes out. ”What’s he doing _walking into the Dark Forest in the middle of the night_?”

 

”I dunno”, Harry mumbles. ”But I’m going to find out…”

 

”No, Harry, _wait_ —!” Draco hisses as Harry zooms up through the branches of the tree and then flies silently over the forest, listening for Snape’s footsteps. 

 

After a while, Draco flies up next to him. 

 

Harry listens intently, finally hearing voices. He glides towards them, then lands soundlessly in a large beech tree and carefully climbs along one of its huge branches. Draco follows him, edging out onto another branch. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” he whispers urgently.

 

” _Shh_ ”, Harry hushes, because he can see Snape through the leaves now — and Quirrell — and by the sounds of it, they are arguing. 

 

”…d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet h-here of all p-p-places, Severus…” Quirrell stutters faintly. 

 

”Oh, I thought we’d keep this private”, Snape says and there’s an icy tone to his voice that makes Harry shiver, so he can only imagine what effect it must have on poor Professor Quirrell. ”Students aren’t supposed to know about the Philosopher’s Stone, after all…”

 

Quirrell mumbles something too quietly for Harry to make out and he inches a bit further out on the branch and leans down. 

 

”Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?” Snape interrupts Quirrell swiftly. 

 

”B-b-but Severus, I —”

 

”You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell”, Snape says taking a step closer to the trembling man. 

 

”I-I don-t k-k-know what you —”

 

”You know perfectly well what I mean.”

 

An owl hoots somewhere nearby, startling Harry who almost slips off the branch. When he’s got his footing again, he leans forward to listen once more.

 

”… your little bit of hocus pocus”, Snape says sourly. ”I’m waiting.”

 

”B-b-but I d-d-don’t —”

 

”Very well”, Snape cuts in. ”We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie.”

 

Snape then throws the hood of his cloak back over his head and stalks out of the forest just as quickly as he’d entered it, leaving poor Quirrell alone in the dark. The man must have taken Snape’s threat to heart, because he is no longer trembling, Harry notices, but standing stock still as though he’s been petrified. 

 

”Let’s go”, Harry whispers to Draco, and they edge their way back on the branches and then carefully mounts their brooms and zooms away from the forest again. 

 

Once they’re safely back inside the Slytherin Common Room, Harry fills Draco in on what he and Ron had talked about in the library and how it all made sense; The Philosopher’s Stone was hidden at Hogwarts, guarded by Hagrid’s three-headed dog, and Snape was trying to get his hands on it. 

 

”And you think — what — that Snape was drinking that unicorn’s blood?” Draco says sceptically. ”Why would he do that? He’s not dying!”

 

”Not that we know of”, Harry mutters, but his conviction starts to falter a bit. 

 

”Look”, Draco says matter-of-factly. ”The whole thing sounds really far-fetched to me.”

 

”It’s not far-fetched!” Harry insists angrily. ”I don’t know why Snape wants the Stone, okay? But you heard him threatening Quirrell tonight. He more or less said he was trying to get past Fluffy, and then he said something about Quirrell’s hocus pocus, and I’ll bet you anything that he was talking abour some anti-Dark Arts spell that Quirrell’s done to protect the Stone, and Snape needs his help to break it…”

 

”So, what, Snape can’t get to the stone as long as Quirrell stands up to him and refuses to help?”

 

Harry nods miserably, ”In other words, he’ll get his hands on it any day now!”

 

”But look, who cares if Snape gets the Stone anyway”, Draco says. ”He’s our Head of House, we should be on _his_ side in all of this!”

 

”Yeah, but… Look, I know he’s your favourite teacher, and that he favours you —”

 

”That’s not true!” Draco says stubbornly, and Harry rolls his eyes. ”Whatever. And I know he’s our Head of House, and although I’m pretty sure he really hates me deep down, he’s obviously doing his best not to show it —”

 

”That’s all in your head”, Draco grumbles, but Harry ignores him, just like he’s done every other time Draco has made this argument. ” _But_ — whoever that person was in the forest, that was drinking that unicorn’s blood, if it was Snape, or someone else, _they were evil,_ all right? That’s why my scar hurt, _I just know it…_ and whether or not Snape has anything to do with all of this, that evil thing in forest wants that Stone, that’s what Firenze tried to tell me before you and Hagrid interrupted us. He said the unicorn blood would sustain them until they could get their hands on something else, something that would restore all their strength and power, something that would mean they can never die — _he was talking about the Elixir of Life, the Philosopher’s Stone_!”

 

”Maybe we should just go talk to Severus about it…”

 

”No!” Harry says horrified. ”Are you mad? What if he _is_ involved somehow?”

 

Draco finally agrees not to go to Snape, but he’s still not convinced of Harry’s theory. And as the weeks go by, and their final exams are looming ever nearer, Draco becomes less and less interested in the Philosopher’s Stone and more and more worried about his revisions. 

 

”You’re almost as bad as Granger”, Harry mutters one day in the library, glancing from the frantic jerks of Draco’s quill to the Gryffindor in question who is sitting at the next table, pouring over piles of notes and mumbling anxiously under her breath. 

 

Draco ignores him, which is a bad sign. Usually, if Harry makes the slightest suggestion that Draco and Granger has anything in common other than the school they go to, the blonde will throw a proper hissy fit. Harry has to admit that’s sort of why he does it, and that’s why he said it just now. But apparently Draco is now so stressed about his school work that he won’t even rise to his favourite bait. Harry leans back with a sigh and glances around, accidentally locking eyes with Ron as the boy enters the library. They smile a little awkwardly at each other, then Ron’s ears go beet red and he quickly joins Granger at the other table. 

 

Harry turns back to Draco and finds him glaring at him.

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

”Nothing”, Draco mutters and goes back to his essay. ”You know the exams are only ten weeks away, it wouldn’t hurt you to do a bit of revising…”

 

 _Ten weeks,_ Harry thinks. _That’s ages…_ But apparently the teachers seem to think along the same lines as Draco and Granger, because in the next few weeks they pile so much homework on them that Harry barely has time to eat and sleep, which makes the Easter holidays a lot less fun than Christmas.

 

Harry’s dads arrange for him to come home for the Easter weekend, but the rest of the week he spends at Hogwarts — _doing homework_ — and even when he does try to take a break from his studies, it’s impossible to relax because Draco is constantly next to him, muttering to himself or practising his wand movements.

 

One afternoon they’re sitting in the library when Hagrid shuffles into view, hiding something behind his back and trying to look inconspicuous when Harry waves at him, ”Hagrid! Hey, Hagrid — over here!”

 

” _Shhh!_ ” Madam Pince hushes aggressively from behind a shelf. 

 

”Sorry!” Harry mumbles at her, then turns back to beam at Hagrid as the half-giant shuffles a little closer. ”What are you doing in the library, Hagrid?”

 

”Just lookin’…” he says and looks around shiftily. ”What’re ye boys up to? Studyin’ for yer exams?”

 

”Trying to”, Draco mutters pointedly. 

 

”Hey, Hagrid”, Harry asks. ”I’ve been meaning to ask you, you know The Philosopher’s St—”

 

”Shhhh!” Hagrid hushes immediately, looking around to make sure no-one is listening. ”Don’ go shoutin’ about it, what’s the matter with yeh?”

 

”But I just wanted to know what else is guarding the stone apart from Fluffy —?”

 

”SHHHH!” Hagrid says. ”Listen — come an’ see me later, in me house, okay? I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’ mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here, students aren’ supposed ter know, so they’ll think I’ve told yeh —”

 

”All right, we’ll see you later then!” Harry says and shrugs. 

 

”You’re not seriously thinking of going?” Draco says haughtily after Hagrid has shuffled out of the library again. 

 

”Why not?” Harry says. 

 

Draco merely looks scandalised at the idea and won’t explain why. Harry glances over at the other table and catches Ron’s eye. 

 

”What about you, Ron? Fancy a visit to Hagrid’s later?”

 

”I never said I wouldn’t go!” Draco says quickly. 

 

Ron looks uncertainly between the two of them, but then he focuses on Harry and shrugs, ”Sure… What was that he was hiding behind his back d’you reckon?”

 

”A book, obviously” Draco and Granger chorus, before flinching and glaring at each other. 

 

Harry hides his smile behind his hand and looks away. He can hear Ron coughing, but it definitely sounds amused. 

 

”I’m going to check and see what section he was in”, Harry says decisively and gets up. 

 

He finds the shelf immediately, because there’s still a book-sized gap left where Hagrid must have taken his book from. Harry quickly scans the titles on either side of the gap and gapes in astonishment. _Dragons… They’re all about dragons… About raising and taming dragons, in fact…_

 

Harry realises that anyone who considers a gigantic three-headed dog fit for a pet, and even names it Fluffy, has a slightly different view of animals than most, _but a dragon…_ _Surely, the gamekeeper is just interested in them in theory and would never actually try and get a hold of one,_ Harry thinks faintly… _It’s against wizarding laws if nothing else…_

 

An hour later, Harry sets off to visit Hagrid in his hut, Ron and Draco on either side of him, glaring daggers at each other over the top of Harry’s head. Granger had considered coming along as well, but opted for some more revising instead when Draco accidentally on purpose let it slip that the final exams often includes questions from sections in the text books that they haven’t even covered, and the only way to get top marks is to memorise the whole syllabus, including the recommended reading list. 

 

When they reach Hagrid’s hut, they’re surprised to see all the curtains drawn. Harry knocks on the door and Hagrid calls, ”Who is it?” before opening the door and ushering them inside. 

 

It’s stiflingly hot inside the small hut. Despite the warm weather outside, there’s a blazing fire in the grate. 

 

”So yeh wanted to ask me summat?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says, graciously accepting a cup of tea when Hagrid offers it to him. ”We were wondering what’s guarding the Stone besides Fluffy.”

 

Hagrid frowns at him, ”Of course I can’t tell yeh tha’… Number one, I don’ righ’ know meself see… And number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh even if I could. That stone’s here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy —”

 

”Oh, come on, Hagrid”, Harry wheedles. ”You _do_ know, you know everything that goes on around here! Besides, we only really wanted to know who’s done the guarding, you know, who Dumbledore would trust enough to help, apart from you!”

 

Hagrid’s immense chest seems to swell at these words, and Harry exchanges a triumphant look with the other two boys. 

 

”Well, I don’ s’pose it could hurt ter tell you that… let’s see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o’ the teachers did enchantments, it was Professor Sprout —” he starts ticking them off on his fingers. ”Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall — Professor Quirrell — and Dumbledore himself did somethin’ o’ course… Oh, hang on, I'm forgetting someone… Oh yeah, Professor Snape!”

 

” _Snape?_ ” Harry says incredulously. 

 

”Yep! And tha’s it!” Hagrid says proudly. 

 

Harry thinks quickly… If Snape has been in on protecting the Stone, he could easily have found out how the others had guarded it, and he probably knew everything now, except Quirrell’s spell, which is why he’s been threatening him… and how to get past Fluffy.

 

”You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you Hagrid?” Harry asks anxiously. ”And you wouldn’t tell anyone, not even a teacher?”

 

”Not a soul except me an’ Dumbledore!” Hagrid says proudly. 

 

Harry nods, _that’s something at least…_ Then suddenly, he sees something on the bottom of the grate, in the middle of the flames… _Oh no…_

 

”Hagrid — what’s _that?_ ”

 

”Eh?” Hagrid says a little too casually. ”Oh tha’… tha’s just… er…”

 

”Where did you get a _dragon’s egg_ from?” Harry exclaims. 

 

”Well, I sorta won it, last night… from this fella in the pub…”

 

Harry just shakes his head, ”Hagrid, you can’t _keep it_. It’s illegal.”

 

”Oh, it’ll be fine”, Hagrid says and waves a dismissive hand. ”I got this book outta the library see… Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit… It’s a bit outta date, but it’s all in here, look… I just have ter keep the egg in the fire, ’cause the mothers breathe on the eggs you see, and once it’s hatched —”

 

”Once it’s hatched?” Ron says. ”Hagrid, you can’t keep a dragon in here!”

 

”Why not?” Hagrid says with frown. 

 

”You live in a _wooden house_ ”, Draco says in his most drawling voice and gives Harry a withering look when he kicks him under the table. 

 

”Hagrid… We’re just trying to help”, Harry says. 

 

”Don’ yeh worry about it, we’ll be fine”, Hagrid says and waves his hand again. ”I’ll let yeh know when it’s hatching, so yeh can come and see —”

 

”Oh yes”, Draco says haughtily as they’re walking back towards the castle. ”That’s exactly what I need right now, never mind revising for our final exams and make sure I actually pass and get to come back for Second Year, what I _really_ want is to witness a _dragon hatching_ —!”

 

”Keep your voice down”, Harry murmurs, looking around. 

 

”No, I won’t!” the blonde says shrilly. ”And if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go to bed early—”

 

”You haven’t even had dinner yet —”

 

”—Good night!”

 

Draco stomps away from the other two and Harry sighs. Ron glances at him awkwardly.

 

”He’s a bit high-strung, isn’t he… Hey, I’m not having a go! Hermione’s the same.”

 

”I suppose”, Harry mutters. ”What are we going to do about the dragon?”

 

”I can write my brother Charlie, he works with dragons in Romania. I’m sure he can help.”

 

 

*

 

As the weeks pass, Draco becomes more and more stressed over the impending exams and Harry becomes more and more anxious about the Philosopher’s Stone. 

 

Lying in his bed one night, unable to sleep, he thinks back to that night in the forest and what the centaur Firenze had tried to tell him… 

 

 _Who would be that desperate,_ he’d asked him then. _If you’re you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?_

 

 _Who_ would _be that desperate,_ he thinks now. _Who would be evil enough slaughter something so pure and innocent and beautiful as a unicorn?_

 

He half wishes his daddy was here so he might ask him, not that he _would_ ask him if he _was_ here. Then he’d have to explain to him how he came to know all these things in the first place, and he’s not sure that would go over too well with either of his dads…

 

Finally he starts to drift off and dreams of hooded figures dribbling blood that vanish into thin air as he looks directly at them… and then disembodied whispering voices hidden behind curtains that, when Harry pull them aside, vanish and the only thing he can find are hundreds of garlics, all dripping with unicorn blood… He wakes up in a cold-sweat, his scar prickling. 

 

He sits up and wipes his sweaty fringe form his forehead and rubs his scar, but it’s no use. The pain is coming from inside his head, not the scar itself. 

 

”Go see Madam Pomfrey”, Draco suggests in the morning, when Harry tells him. 

 

”I’m not ill”, Harry mutters and shakes his head. ”I think — I think it’s a warning… it means danger’s coming…”

 

And then it hits him like a bucket of ice water… Voldemort… 

 

”Harry? What’s wrong?” Draco says, peering closely at his face. ”You sure you’re not ill, ’cause you look positively —”

 

”No”, Harry gasps. ”Not ill…”

 

Draco frowns worriedly at him, ”What is it then?”

 

Harry just shakes his head. It all makes sense. Snape doesn’t want the Stone for himself, he wants it for Voldemort, to bring him back… That’s who was drinking the unicorn blood… That’s what Firenze had been about to tell him… _Voldemort is back and if he gets his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone, he’ll get his powers back, he’ll be indestructible, immortal…_

 

”Look at that”, Draco says with a sneer. 

 

He nods towards the High Table where a very morose-looking Hagrid is picking at his food and Harry looks but barely sees, his mind buzzing with terrible possibilities… _Voldemort returning to power… Voldemort coming after him to finish the job… Voldemort killing his dads like he killed James and Lily Potter…_

 

 _But no,_ he tells himself firmly. _I won’t let that happen. Besides, as long as Dumbledore is around, we’re all safe._

 

”I suppose Weasley’s brother finally took his precious dragon away”, Draco continues. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry murmurs, something niggling at the back of his mind. 

 

”Wonder what cutsie name he came up with — _Cuddles,_ maybe —”

 

Harry suddenly feels his blood run cold as he turns to look at Hagrid as the half-giant gets up and starts walking out of the Great Hall. 

 

”Oh no… Oh, why didn’t I see that before —” Harry moans and jumps to his feet.

 

”What? What is it?” Draco says. 

 

”I need to talk to Hagrid!” Harry says and starts running after him. 

 

”Harry, wait —!” 

 

But Harry can’t wait. He needs to speak to Hagrid right now, before it’s too late. He can hear Draco running after him, but he doesn’t slow down to let him catch up. He can see Hagrid across the lawn, almost at his hut already and he runs faster. 

 

” _Wait_ —!” Draco pants behind him. 

 

”Hagrid —!” Harry yells as he gets closer to the hut and Hagrid pauses with his hand on the doorknob and looks back. ”Hagrid, I need — to talk — to you —!”

 

Harry thunders to a stop in front of Hagrid and takes a deep breath. 

 

”Harry?” Hagrid frowns. ”Wha’s goin’ on?”

 

”Hagrid”, Harry says. ”You know that night you won the dragon’s egg? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?”

 

”Oh”, Hagrid says dully. ”Dunno. He wouldn’ take his cloak off and he had his hood pulled down over ’is face… Nothin’ unusual abou’ tha’ though… Yeh get all sorts in the Hog’s Head…”

 

”But what did you talk about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?”

 

”Mighta come up…” Hagrid says, frowning as he tries to remember. ”Yeah, he asked me what I did, an’ I told ’im I was gamekeeper here… he asked me wha’ sorta creatures I look after, so I told ’im… an’ I said wha’ I always really wanted was a dragon…” Hagrid heaves a sad sigh. ”Tha’s when he said he had the egg, said ’e could play me for it… but… let’s see… can’ remember too too well, he kept buyin’ me drinks, yeh see… no, yes, he said he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home o’ course…”

 

”And… what did you tell him then?” Harry says, as dread starts pooling in his belly. 

 

”Well, I told ’im, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy!”

 

”And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?” Harry says, trying to keep his voice under control.

 

”Well, o’course he was interested in ’im! How often d’yeh come across a three-headed dog, even if yer in the trade? But I told ’im, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake as long as yeh know ’ow to calm ’im down — jus’ play ’im a bit o’ music an’ he’ll fall righta sleep!”

 

Harry groans and behind him, Draco groans as well. Hagrid seems to shake himself out of his memories and looks between the two of them, quite horrified with himself. 

 

”I shouldn’ta told yeh that!” he blurts. ”Forget I said it! Hey — where’re yeh goin’?”

 

But Harry ignores him and starts running back towards the castle, Draco close on his heel. 

 

”That — stupid — _oaf_!” he pants behind Harry. 

 

”Never mind that, we have to warn Dumbledore — now!”

 

They take the front steps two at a time and hurtle inside the Entrance Hall. Harry looks around, as if hoping a sign pointing them in the direction of the Headmaster’s Office might suddenly appear out of nowhere. 

 

”How do we find him?” he pants. 

 

Draco just shakes his head, doubled over as he is, trying to catch his breath. 

 

”What are you two doing inside?” the stern voice of Professor McGonagall startles them and they wheel around to see her coming down the marble staircase carrying a large pile of books. 

 

”We need to see Professor Dumbledore”, Harry says immediately. 

 

”See Professor Dumbledore?” McGonagall repeats and squints at them as though it was something rather fishy to want to do. ”Why?”

 

”Its — it’s kind of a secret”, he says. 

 

McGonagall gives him an unimpressed look, ”Well, you can’t. Professor Dumbledore left for London ten minutes ago.”

 

”He’s _gone_?” Harry says frantically. ” _Now_?”

 

”Yes”, McGonagall says curtly. ”Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time — it’s my understanding that he received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic this morning and he flew off for London at once.”

 

”But this is important —!”

 

”Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?”

 

”Look”, Harry says, finally throwing caution to the wind. ”It’s about the Philosopher’s Stone —”

 

The books McGonagall has been carrying tumble out of her arms and scatter on the marble floor around her.

 

”How do you know —?” she splutters.

 

”Never mind that, we think someone is going to try and steal it —!”

 

”Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow”, she says after a moment. ”I don’t know how you found out about the stone, but I can assure you that it is well protected.”

 

”But Professor —”

 

”Potter, I know what I’m talking about!” she says shortly and waves her wand at the books and makes them pile up in her arms again. ”I suggest you two go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.”

 

Harry and Draco watch her disappear through a door, then turn to look at each other. 

 

”It’s tonight”, Harry says grimly. ”Snape’s going to try and steal the stone tonight —”

 

Draco opens his mouth to protest, but Harry immediately cuts him off, ”We don’t have time to argue about this, okay! I just know I’m right, and you’re going to have to trust me!”

 

”Fine”, Draco says surly. ”So what do you suggest we do? You heard what McGonagall said. Dumbledore won’t be back until tomorrow.”

 

”We can’t wait ’til then. It’ll be too late.”

 

”Yeah, so what are we going to do?” Draco says again. 

 

”We’ll just have to try and get the stone first.”

 

” _What_?” Draco gasps. 

 

”Yeah? What else are we gonna do? Nothing?”

 

”But — but — we’ll be expelled —!”

 

”So what! Don’t you understand? If Snape — _or whoever_ — gets a hold of that Stone, Voldemort is coming back!”

 

”W-w-wha— Vol— _What_?”

 

”Yeah, don’t you see? That’s who’s out there in the forest, that’s who’s been feeding off the unicorns to stay alive  — _long enough to get his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone_ — and if we don’t stop him — there won’t be a Hogwarts left to be expelled from! He’ll flatten it to the ground, or, or, turn it into a school for Dark Arts or something!”

 

”B-b-but he’s d-dead —”

 

”No”, Harry says swiftly and he just knows it’s true, even though the tought only just occurred to him a while ago, he’s never been so sure of anything in his entire life. ”He’s not dead. He’s just weak. I know it’s him, or my scar wouldn’t be hurting…”

 

”Oh, Merlin…” Draco says in a small voice, and Harry notices for the first time that the boy is trembling all over. 

 

”It’s okay”, he says. ”I’ll take my Invisibility Cloak and sneak through the trapdoor and I’ll grab the stone before he can get his hands on it and keep it safe until tomorrow when Dumbledore gets back.”

 

”You can’t go by yourself — we need to tell someone!”

 

”Who?” Harry counters. ”McGonagall didn’t believe us. Who else can we tell? And don’t say Snape!”

 

”Well —”

 

”No! And it’s no use telling our parents, they won’t believe us and even if they do they won’t make it here in time.”

 

”Ehm — maybe — I don’t know — a Prefect?”

 

”No”, Harry says again, gentler this time, because he knows Draco is only frightened for him. ”I’ll go by myself, it will be easier to sneak past Sn— _whoever_ — if it’s just me under the Cloak.”

 

”We both fit under the Cloak”, Draco says so quietly that Harry barely hears him. 

 

”What?”

 

”I said, we both fit under the Cloak. I c-could come with you.”

 

Draco boy looks white as a ghost and is trembling slightly, but there’s a determined look in his eyes.  Harry feels his chest swell and smiles at him. 

 

They go to the library to look for defensive and protective spells, anything they might need to get past the enchantments guarding the stone. 

 

”Hang on”, Draco whispers. ”The oaf — I mean, Hagrid — said Professor Sprout was one of the teachers who had helped guard the stone, right? So we need some books on herbology…” 

 

He jumps up and hurries down the aisles, scanning the subject signs. 

 

”Heya Harry…”

 

Harry looks up and sees Ron and Hermione Granger enter the library and waves back. Ron comes up to him and looks around at the piles of books on the table with a frown, ”What are you doing?”

 

”Ehm…”

 

”Here, I found some books on flesh-eating plants that might be useful”, Draco’s muffled voice can be heard from the other side of a toppling pile of books he’s carrying. 

 

”What’s that?” Hermione says rather shrilly. ”Why would you need to read about those? Did Professor Sprout say anything about —?”

 

”It’s not for the exams”, Harry says quickly, but that just makes the girl look even more suspiscious. ”Look… We’re going to try at get to the Stone.”

 

” _What?_ ” Ron and Hermione exclaim. 

 

”You told her?” Harry asks Ron wryly and the redhead blushes.

 

”Never mind that”, Hermione says. ”What do you mean you’re going to steal —?”

 

”I didn’t say we’re going to steal it”, Harry snaps. ”We’re going to keep it safe until Dumbledore gets back tomorrow, _before someone else steals it_!”

 

”And what makes you think you two will manage to keep it safe if even Dumbledore’s precautions aren’t enough to keep it from getting stolen?” 

 

”Because —!” Harry says loudly, then immediately lowers his voice again and looks around carefully. ” _Because_ we know who wants to steal it and we know they know how to get past the three-headed dog, and probably the enchantments as well…”

 

”But you can’t go alone”, Ron says, looking slightly awe-struck as he gazes at Harry. 

 

”He won’t be going alone”, Draco says coldly. 

 

”What, _you’re_ going with him — oh, that makes me feel _loads_ better —”

 

”Don’t fight”, Harry mutters, before Draco can retaliate. 

 

”Well, we’re coming with you”, Ron says. 

 

”Like Hell you are —!” Draco snarls. 

 

”Shut up, Malfoy!”

 

”Okay, okay!” Harry says, holding his hands up. ”Draco — they can come if they want, we need all the help we can get, there’s no way we’re going to memorise all these books before nightfall, okay…”

 

Draco says nothing, but sulks for the rest of the afternoon, flicking idly through a copy of _A Thousand Magical Herbs And Fungi_ while the others talk in hushed tones, Harry bringing Ron and Hermione up to speed with everything he’s worked out so far. 

 

By the end of it, they both look white as sheets. 

 

”That’s why we have to try and get to the Stone first, or Vol—”

 

”Don’t say the name”, Ron whimpers.

 

”Fine. You-Know-Who might rise to power again… So we’re all agreed? We’ll meet on the third floor after dinner?”

 

They all nod and go their separate ways. Draco is still sulking all throughout dinner, but Harry ignores him. He’s got bigger things to worry about. Ever since the idea popped into his head, that Voldemort might be back at any moment and come after him, every time his scar prickles he jumps and looks around as if expecting to see him burst out of the nearest door. 

 

”You know it’s weird, don’t you?” Draco says airly as they make their way towards the third floor after dinner. ”You’re the only Slytherin to socialise with Gryffindors. And it’s not just Slytherin, it’s all the houses. People don’t usually make friends with people from other houses…”

 

”What’s your point?” Harry sighs. 

 

”It’s just weird, that’s all… Like maybe you rather be in Gryffindor, maybe you wish the Sorting Hat had put you Gryffindor instead of Slytherin…”

 

”No, because it asked me if I wanted to be in Slytherin or Gryffindor”, Harry says matter-of-factly. ”And I told it — well, I — I told it I couldn’t choose, actually.”

 

”And now you regret not telling it to put you in Gryffindor?” Draco says sharply. 

 

”No, not at all”, Harry says truthfully. ”I like being in Slytherin. I like our Common Room and I like going to bed and listening to the lake lapping at the windows in our dorm. I like most of the people in Slytherin, except for Greg and Vincent… and Pansy…”

 

Draco’s lips twitch a little, ”Oh, is that all?”

 

”Well, then there’s my number one favourite thing about being in Slytherin… The reason I was thinking about wanting to be in Slytherin in the first place when the Sorting Hat asked me…”

 

”And what’s that?” Draco says, carefully keeping his voice and face neutral but his eyes are glittering. 

 

”You”, Harry says simply. 

 

Before Draco has a chance to respond to that, they round the corner and come face to face with Ron and Hermione who are waiting for them outside the door to Fluffy’s corridor. Harry leans close to the door and listens for Fluffy’s growls and snuffles, but he doesn’t hear any of that… He hears music… And snoring… 

 

”Oh no…” he breathes and quickly straightens up again. ”He’s already got past Fluffy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love.


	6. Through the trapdoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of "The Philosopher's Stone" basically!

Hermione offers to run to the owlery to send a message to Dumbledore, while the boys try and get to the Stone before it's stolen. Harry stuffs the Invisibility Cloak in his pocket — they won’t need it now — and takes the lead. The three boys shuffle further inside the corridor and creep closer to the sleeping beast as quietly and cautiously as possible. A bewitched harp is standing to the side, still playing its soothing tune, keeping Fluffy asleep. 

 

As they get closer to the sleeping dog, its hot, smelly breaths hits them from three sides. Draco gags before quickly raising his arm to his face. Harry catches Ron’s eyeroll, but doesn’t say anything just gestures for them both to stay back for a moment. Then he carefully crawls over one of Fluffy’s enormous paws and grabs the ring of the trapdoor and pulls it open. 

 

”I really hope that harp keeps playing”, Ron mutters as he’s sprawled on top of the paw, halfway over it to follow Harry.

 

Harry edges around the trapdoor to make room for him, then looks over at Draco to make sure he’s coming as well before squatting down and peering down the hole in the floor. Draco inches closer to the paw, but remains on the other side, frozen to the spot. He is trembling violently and looks white as a ghost. 

 

”It’s alright, Draco”, Harry whispers. ”It won’t wake up, come on…”

 

”Y-y-you don’t know that”, Draco whispers. 

 

”If the harp stops playing, I’ll sing something until you both have climbed down”, Harry promises and Draco finally tears his terrified eyes away from Fluffy’s nearest head and gives him a sceptical look. ”Can you sing? I mean, are you any good? ’Cause if not, I’m not —”

 

”Just get over here”, Ron hisses.

 

”Don’t tell me what to do, Weasel —!” Draco hisses back. 

 

”Draco”, Harry whispers sharply. ”Either come over here now or go back to the dorms, we don’t have time to argue about this!”

 

The hopeful look on Ron’s face is what finally gets Draco moving and he slides over the paw gracefully, glaring daggers at Ron the whole time. 

 

”All right”, Harry murmurs. ”I’ll go first. Wait for me to tell you if the coast is clear…”

 

He lowers himself slowly into the hole, until he’s hanging on to the edge by his fingertips. He looks up at the other two boys, both staring down at him worriedly, ”If something happens to me, don’t follow. Just go back and send Hedwig with a message to Dumbledore, okay?”

 

Draco looks positively horrified at the idea of leaving Harry to his fate should something happen to him, but both he and Ron nod their assent. Harry takes a deep breath, then lets go. 

 

Cool, damp air rushes past him as he falls, further and further down… Until finally he drops onto something quite soft with a muffled _thump._ He sits up and looks around, but it’s pitch black around him so he can’t make out a single thing. Instead he feels around at whatever he’s landed on… It’s some kind of a plant. 

 

”It’s okay!” he calls up towards the trapdoor, now the size of a small postcard over his head.

 

Ron jumps straight away, landing in a sprawling heap right next to Harry. 

 

”What is this stuff?” he says. 

 

”Dunno, some sort of plant. Probably here to break the fall… Draco, come on!”

 

Suddenly the distant harp music stops and Harry’s heart stutters in his chest as the silence is almost immediately filled with angry growling instead. 

 

But in the next moment, Draco lands on the other side of Harry and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

 

” _It won’t wake up_ ”, Draco snarls. ”Right. It definitely _won’t wake up_!”

 

”We all made it, Draco, so give it a rest!” Harry says. 

 

”Yeah, it’s lucky this plant thing’s here and all…” Ron says.

 

”Lucky? _Lucky?_ ” Draco more or less shrieks as he scrambles to his feet and starts to struggle to get away from them and over to one of the damp walls. ”Look at you both! _This is Devil’s Snare!_ ”

 

Harry looks down in confusion, his eyes beginning to get used to the darkness now and he can make out moving tendrils that slither around and over him, twisting around his legs… Draco tears himself loose from the plant at last and crashes into the wall panting. But Harry and Ron are thoroughly trapped, and the more they strain and pull, the faster the plant seems to wound around them. 

 

”Stop it!” Draco cries. ”Stop fighting it!”

 

”Are you mental?” Ron bellows, thrashing his head around wildly to stop a tendril from curling around his neck. 

 

”Shut up, I’m trying to think —!” Draco hollers frantically. ”Oh Merlin, Oh Salazar, what was it, what was it… _Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare…_ Oh, I can’t think! _Shut up, Weasley_!”

 

Ron’s gurgling gasps continue though, as the plant has now managed to ensnare his throat and is steadily choking him. 

 

”Hurry — up —” Harry gasps, as a particularly thick tendril wounds around his chest and squeezes hard. ”Can’t — breathe —!”

 

”Oh, oh — Devil’s Snare — _It likes the dark and the damp —!”_ Draco sobs. ”Yes, yes, that’s it!”

 

Harry can hear Draco fumble with something. There’s a muffled clatter as he drops his wand, but in the next moment he gasps, ”L- L- _Lumos Maxima_!” 

 

A bright light suddenly bursts out of Draco’s wand tip and floods the small chamber. Within seconds, Harry feels the plant loosening its grip on him as it wriggles frantically and cringes away from the light. He pulls himself free, and quickly bends over Ron to make sure he’s okay. The redhead gasps and splutters, but he seems to be fine. Harry gives him a hand up and they join Draco over by the wall. 

 

”You saved our lives!” Harry pants. 

 

Draco says nothing, just continues to stare at the recoiling plant in the other end of the room, his face set in concentration as he maintains the spell. 

 

”Okay, this way…” Harry says, noticing a stone passageway leading out of the room.

 

”Can you hear anything?” Ron says after a while. 

 

Harry listens carefully. Apart from the gentle drip of water, he can hear something as well… A soft rustling like wings, and a clinking sound… 

 

They reach the end of the passageway that opens up into a bright chamber with a high, arching ceiling and looking up they see the source of the weird noise… Hundreds of fluttering birds, glittering slightly in the light… Harry frowns, _what is the point of that?_

 

On the other end of the chamber is a wooden door, the only door in the whole chamber and obviously the way forward. 

 

”Think they’ll attack us if we try and cross the room?” Ron whispers without taking his eyes of the swarm of birds overhead. 

 

”Probably”, Harry mutters. ”Only one way to find out… You stay here —”

 

He covers his face with his arms and makes a run for it. But nothing happens. He reaches the door without trouble and none of the birds seem to have noticed him at all. 

 

”Huh…” he says and shrugs, turning towards the door and trying the handle. 

 

It’s locked. Ron jogs across the room, Draco sauntering after him, and they all try pulling the handle together, but the door won’t budge. 

 

”Now what?” Ron says.

 

”Just because you’ve got two Slytherins with you, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least _try_ and think for yourself, Weasel —” Draco grumbles. 

 

” _Shut up, Malfoy!_ ”

 

”Don’t fight”, Harry mumbles half-heartedly, staring up at the birds and thinking… 

 

 _They’re obviously here for a reason, but… Hang on…_ Harry squints at one of the closest birds and realises with a jolt why they’re all glittering — they aren’t birds at all, _they’re keys!_

 

Harry quickly looks around the chamber until he spots a couple of broomsticks in a corner. 

 

” _Yes_! I know what we need to do!” He exclaims and runs over to grab three of the broomsticks and hands one each to Ron and Draco before mounting his own. ”They’re not birds, they’re winged keys! We just have to find the one that will unlock that door!”

 

”But there are _hundreds_ of them!” Draco whines. ”It’s going to take _forever_ —!”

 

Ron leans down to examine the lock on the door more closely, ”We’re looking for a big, old-fashioned one… probably silver, like the handle…”

 

They all kick off the ground and soar into the air, zooming around the chamber and diving through the swarm of bewitched keys, grabbing at them blindly but the keys dart around so quickly it’s almost impossible to catch one. 

 

Suddenly, Harry spots a large silver key that flies a little slower than the rest due to a broken wing and he realises this must be the one, Snape must have already caught it once and broken its wing in the process! He dives after it, but even with a broken wing the key is fast. 

 

”Okay, you guys!” he yells without taking his eye off the key. ”It’s that one there — see it? — bright blue wings, one of them broken? — we need to close in on it, so Ron you come at it from above, Draco you stay underneath it and I’ll try and catch it! Ready —?”

 

Ron dives, Draco rockets upwards and the key, flitting between them in fright, darts to the side — but Harry is ready for it — he snatches it and squeezes it tightly in his fist, the poor thing flailing frantically. 

 

”Got it!” Harry yells in triumph. 

 

He makes a nose-dive towards the door and pulls up just before he crashes and lands smoothly on the floor. Ron and Draco both land next to him, their brooms clattering to the floor. 

 

Harry sticks the battered key into the lock and turns it. The door swings open, revealing a pitch black room. The three boys enter cautiously with their arms out-stretched to feel for any obstacles. But as soon as the door slides shut again behind them, light suddenly floods the chamber and they gasp as a huge chess set with life-sized chessmen is revealed. 

 

The boys creep closer and Harry notices that some of the black pieces are missing, whereas the white side on the far end of the room seems to be intact. 

 

”What do you suppose we’re meant to do here?” Harry asks, although he’s got a pretty good idea. 

 

”It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ron murmurs. ”We need to play our way across the room.”

 

Harry usually enjoys wizard chess, but he’s the first to admit that he isn’t very good. He’s played both Ron and Draco however, and they are both excellent players. Draco in particular have a very strategic way of thinking, so he thinks they should be fine, as long as the two boys can get along for long enough to finish the game… 

 

Ten minutes later, Harry wishes that thought had never entered into his head, sure he must have jinxed them all by thinking it… Ron, having chosen to be one of the Knights, is sitting on top of a life-sized stone horse, looking quite imposing from the added height, but despite this Draco is stubbornly standing his ground from his position as a castle, his arms crossed and his eyes flashing furiously as Ron hollers at him. 

 

”If you move to D4, then their castle will move to—!”

 

”That’s the most imbecilic tactic I have ever heard of, I refuse to be a decoy —!”

 

”It’s the only way to get Harry to —!”

 

”I do _not_ take orders from a antipositional cretin, who thinks sending a _Bishop_ to take out a _pawn_ is a _book move_ —!” Draco snaps.

 

Ron splutters indignantly for a moment, his face getting redder and redder by the minute. Harry would step in and mediate, but he doesn’t even understand what they’re saying. 

 

”JUST MOVE TO D4 —!”

 

” _You_ move to E12 —!”

 

”Wha—!” Ron cuts himself off and whips his head around, staring in shock at the White Queen who turns her faceless head as if staring back, and he gulps. ”Oh — Yeah, yeah, you’re right… That’s… That’s actually…”

 

Draco smirks triumphantly. 

 

”What?” Harry mutters. ”What are we doing?”

 

”I’ll have to be taken”, Ron says. 

 

”What, no —!” Harry protests. 

 

”It’s the only way”, Draco says. ”If the Queen takes Ron, they you can take the King and it’s check mate.”

 

”But Ron —”

 

”That’s chess”, Ron says sharply. ”You have to make sacrifices! All right — here goes —”

 

Ron moves, and immediately the White Queen pounces on him. She strikes him over the head with her large stone arm, knocking him off the horse and he crumples in a heap on the ground. The Queen grabs him and the horse and drags them off the chess board. 

 

”R-Ron? Are you — are you all right —?” Harry calls after him. 

 

”He’ll be fine”, Draco mutters. ”It’s your move, Harry…”

 

Shaking, Harry moves three spaces to the left as Draco instructs him and immediately the White King takes off his crown and throws it at his feet. The remaining chessmen on the white side parts to make way for them and bows when Harry and Draco pass. 

 

”What do you reckon is next?” Harry says, trying to stay focused despite his worry for Ron.

 

”Well, we’ve had Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, haven’t we? So that leaves Quirrell and Snape — oh, and Dumbledore —”

 

Harry pushes the door open and a disgusting smell hits them. Draco gags and quickly buries his face in the crook of his arm. Through watering eyes, they see the knocked-out body of a massive troll on the ground in front of them, at least twice the size of the troll that attacked Hermione on Hallowe’en. 

 

”So glad we didn’t have to deal with that”, Harry says and steps over its massive legs. ”Come on, I can’t breathe in here.”

 

They hurry across the chamber and through the next door, shutting it firmly behind them. Thankfully the stench vanishes as soon as the door clicks shut and Harry gulps down a deep breath. 

 

In this room, a single table is set up and on top of it is a row of seven differently shaped bottles of potion. As soon as they step further into the room, purple fire erupts between them and the door they came through and black fire roars to life in front of the only other door in the room, the door leading to the Stone.

 

”What do we do?” Harry says uncertainly, eyeing the potion bottles.

 

Draco steps up to the table and seizes a roll of parchment, ”Look! Instructions!”

 

He scans the paper quickly, and Harry steps closer to him and peers down at the parchment over his shoulder. It looks like a riddle to him and he frowns. They don’t have time for riddles, any minute now Snape will have his hand on the Stone!

 

”Brilliant!” Draco squeals. ”This isn’t magic — it’s logic — Oh, that’s so clever! Most people haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here forever!”

 

”So will we, won’t we?”

 

”Of course not!” Draco huffs haughtily. ”Are you a Slytherin, or not? Everything we need to know is here on this piece of paper, we just have to work it out — So! Let’s see — seven bottles, three are poison —”

 

”— _Poison_ —!”

 

”— hush, I’m thinking — two are wine, one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us safely through the purple, okay!” Draco says in a rush, his eyes practically sparkling at the challenge as he peers at the bottles. 

 

”Now I know why you’re Snape’s favourite”, Harry mutters. 

 

Draco doesn’t seem to have heard him; he is walking up and down the length of the table, peering closely at each bottle and muttering intensely to himself. Finally, he stands up swiftly and beams at Harry. 

 

”You worked it out?” Harry says apprehensively, but feels hope flare in his chest. 

 

”I think so! The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire!”

 

Draco points to the tiniest of all the bottles and Harry feels his stomach sink. The bottle is not only tiny, it’s also almost completely empty. 

 

”That’s barely enough for one person…”

 

Draco’s face falls and he looks at the bottle as if seeing it for the first time, ”Oh… I didn’t think of that…”

 

”Have you worked out which one will get you through the purple fire?”

 

”Yeah, it’s the — hang on, why are you asking? You’re not thinking of going on by yourself, are you?”

 

”Listen —” Harry starts, but Draco’s eyes widen comically and he starts to shake his head. ”No, listen, Draco — You go back and get help, and make sure Ron is okay, you can grab one of the brooms from the key room and it’ll get you out of here faster — I’ll try and hold Snape or whoever is in there off until Dumbledore gets here. It’s the only way.”

 

”B-but Harry — what if You-Know-Who is in there —?”

 

Harry swallows thickly. He doesn’t want to think about that. But he plasters a reassuring smile onto his face and points to his scar, ”I got lucky once, didn’t I? Maybe I’ll get lucky again!”

 

Draco’s eyes begin to glitter even more than they did when he was working out the potions riddle, and a second later Harry knows why… Big tears tumble down the blonde’s face and he lets out a strangled sob, before throwing himself at Harry and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Harry staggers back under the sudden weight that crashes into him, but manages to keep them both upright. He hugs back quickly and feels his own resolve strenghten again. 

 

”It’ll be okay, you’ll see”, he says earnestly. ”Now, you drink yours first, I want to be sure you’re okay before I go…”

 

Draco wipes the tears off his face and nods, grabbing one of the larger bottles from the table.

 

”You’re absolutely sure that’s the one?” Harry asks anxiously. 

 

”Yeah, positive”, Draco mumbles and takes a swig from the bottle. 

 

”Now go, before it wears off!” Harry urges him. ”GO!”

 

Draco gives him a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, stunning him, before darting through the purple fire and disappearing from view. Harry remains stock still for a second, just staring at the purple flames, and gingerly prodding the side of his mouth with his fingertips. 

 

But then he shakes off the shock and grabs the tiny bottle, taking a deep, steeling breath he brings it over to the other doorway. 

 

”Here goes”, he murmurs and empties the bottle onto his tongue before quickly strepping through the black flames with his eyes screwed shut. 

 

He feels nothing. Just a slightly tickling sensation, like travelling by floo. He opens his eyes… and blinks several times, his heart stuttering in his chest… _It can’t be_ , he thinks numbly. 

 

Slowly the man turns around to face him, his purple turban perched on top of his head as always  but that’s the only thing recognisable about Quirrell right now; his usually pale and terrified face is completely calm as he stares back at Harry, and he smirks. 

 

”You!” Harry gasps. ”No — Snape —”

 

”Ah, yes…” Quirrell murmurs without a hint of a stammer. ”He does seem the type, doesn’t he? It has been so useful having him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would ever suspect p-p-poor s-s-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?” 

 

The man chuckles coldly. Then with a snap of his fingers, ropes spring out of thin air and wrap themselves tightly around Harry’s body, pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing the air out of his lungs. 

 

” _Gerroff_ —!” Harry gasps and tries to wrench his arms free, but the ropes only coil tighter and tighter around his body and he topples over and falls with a heavy _thump_ to the hard stone floor, his glasses flying off and landing with a clatter in front of his face. 

 

”I’m sorry, but you’re simply too nosy to live, Potter…” Quirrell says in a drawling voice. ”Scurrying around the school at Hallowe’en like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone…”

 

”You — _you_ — let the — troll in —?” Harry gasps incredulously. 

 

”Certainly, I did. You see, I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did with the one in the chamber back there? — but unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, which was my plan, Snape who was already suspecting me went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did the troll fail to beat you to death, the three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off properly!” Quirrell huffs in annoyance. ”Ah well. It will all be remedied tonight… Now hold tightly, Potter, while I examine this mirror…”

 

The blurry figure that is Quirrell turns away to look at the huge mirror with the golden frame, the same mirror that Harry found that one night when he was hiding from Filch and Snape, that is propped up against the far wall. Harry barely has time to notice this however, when a searing pain bursts out of his scar and gasps. 

 

”Hush now, Potter — I’m trying to think —” Quirrell mutters. 

 

Harry’s eyes flood with tears as the pain gets stronger and stronger, but he forces himself to stay present, to keep Quirrell talking — anything to buy him time — 

 

”I saw you and Snape — in the forest —!” he gasps. 

 

”Yes…” Quirrell says idly, feeling his way around the golden frame of the mirror. ”He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I’d got… He suspected me all along. Tried to _frighten_ me — as though he could, when I have _Lord Voldemort on my side_ …”

 

Quirrell walks behind the mirror and disappears from sight for a moment, and the pain in Harry’s scar quickly fades again. He takes a few deep breaths and blinks the tears out of his eyes, not that it helps his eye sight any…

 

”This mirror is the key to finding the Stone”, Quirrell mutters from behind the mirror. ”Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… But not to worry… I’ll work it out… I have all night…”

 

Then Quirrell steps out from behind the mirror again and stands facing his reflection. Pain sears across Harry’s scar again and he bangs his head back against the stone floor, causing lights to flicker in front of his eyes and another, dull pain to explode in the back of his head… It helps distract him from the pain in his forehead though… 

 

”I see the Stone… I’m presenting it to my master… but _where is it_?” Quirrell mutters. 

 

”But I thought — I thought — Snape — hates me —?” Harry says. 

 

”Oh, he does”, Quirrell says casually. ”Or — well — hate is a strong word, I suppose… He certainly wasn’t pleased when you were sorted into his house, though… He was at school with your father, don’t you know — all of your fathers, I should say — and ah… ha ha… Severus does hold a grudge, I’m afraid…”

 

Quirrell lets out a humorless chuckle, ”Old school feuds… Such childish incentives… And Snape thinks he can frighten me into submission, thinks he can get me on my own and bully me into spilling my master’s secrets… He doesn’t know, he doesn’t realise, that I am never alone… ever…”

 

Harry frowns, it doesn’t make any sense, any of it. He’d been _so sure_ that Snape was working for Voldemort. But now it seems as though he’s been a step ahead of everyone this whole time, working against Quirrell, nearly getting himself killed by Fluffy just to stop Quirrell from getting his hands on the Stone… Harry feels a twinge of guilt… _I should have listened to Draco_ …

 

Quirrell curses under his breath, ”I don’t understand this… is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?… What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”

 

To Harry’s horror, a voice answers — and it seems to be coming from Quirrell himself. 

 

_”Use the boy… Use the boy…”_

 

Quirrell wheels around to face Harry again, and once again the pain in Harry’s forehead fades to a dull throb. 

 

”Ah — yes, of course — Potter! Come here!”

 

Quirrell claps his hands and the ropes around Harry’s body loosen and fall off. Harry scrambles to his feet, panting. _Should I make a run for it?_

 

”I said, _come here_!” Quirrell barks. ”Come here and stand in front of the mirror, tell me what you see!”

 

Harry walks up to the mirror and Quirrell stands back to let him have a proper look. At first, there is nothing in the mirror’s reflection that shouldn’t be there. No invisible people standing behind Harry, like the last time he looked into it. Only him. Except… There is something slighty off about his face… Harry can’t be sure, of course, since he has no other means of seeing his own face, but it seems odd to him that his reflection is smirking… And also, there seems to be no streaks of tears on his face, but Harry can definitely feel the chill on his cheeks where some of the tears have yet to dry… 

 

The boy in the reflection’s smirk widens into a happy smile, and then — Harry stares wide-eyed — the boy slowly puts his hand in his trouser pocket and pulls out a blood-red stone, shows it to Harry, then puts it back in his pocket again — and as he does, Harry feels an added weight suddenly appear in his own trouser pocket… Somehow, incredibly, _Harry has got the Philosopher’s Stone!_

 

”Well?” Quirrell demands impatiently. ”What do you see?”

 

”I — I see — myself and my — my dads — and Draco —”

 

” _He lies… He lies_ …” the disembodied voice hisses, and Harry feels ripples of cold run over his body at the sound. ” _Let me speak to him… face to face…”_

 

”Master, you are not strong enough!” Quirrell says to the empty air in front of him. 

 

” _I have strength enough… for this…_ ”

 

Harry feels like the Devil’s Snare is back around his chest, squeezing him. He stands rooted to the spot and stares in mute horror as Quirrell reaches up and slowly begins to unwrap his purple turban and once the turban has fallen to the floor, he gives Harry one last withering look before slowly turning on the spot. 

 

Harry cringes in shock, and would have screamed if he wasn’t so petrified. Where the back of Quirrell’s head ought to have been, another face is protruding; a terrible, chalk white face, and although Harry can’t make out the features without his glasses on, there’s no mistaking the bright, red eyes…

 

 _”Harry Potter…_ ” the face wheezes. ” _See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another’s body, like a parasite… But there has always been those willing to let me share their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strenghtened me these past few weeks — and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own again — Now… Why don’t you give me… that Stone…_ in your pocket _?”_

 

Harry stumbles back in panic and trips over, sprawling on the floor. 

 

” _Don’t be a fool_ ”, Voldemort snarls. ” _Better save your own life and join me, or you’ll meet the same end as your parents_ …”

 

Quirrell starts walking backwards towards Harry, so that Voldemort can still see him. Harry quickly scrambles back. 

 

” _Don’t be brave, boy… Your parents were brave, that’s what got them killed… I killed your father first, he put up quite a courageous fight… Your mother needn’t have died at all, but she was trying to protect you… Now give me the Stone, or her sacrifice will have been in vain_ —”

 

”NEVER!” Harry yells and jumps to his feet, dashing towards the still burning doorway. 

 

” _SEIZE HIM!_ ” Voldemort screams. 

 

Before Harry has reached the door, something grabs him by the ankle and pulls him back. He falls and hits the floor hard, the air getting knocked out of his lungs and he coughs. Quirrell grabs his wrist in a tight grip and tries to turn him over — Harry’s scar bursts open with white-hot, blinding pain and he screams — struggling with all his remaining strength, Harry thrashes under Quirrell’s weight as the man leans over him and tries to reach inside his pocket… 

 

Harry slaps his hand on top of Quirrell’s to try and stop it from reaching inside, and to his utter amazement, Quirrell actually pulls his hand back… In the next moment, Quirrell has moved off Harry entirely and stepped back… Harry sits up and stares around wildly, it looks as though Quirrell is hunched over in pain, he’s cradling his hand to his chest and panting… Harry tries to see what’s wrong with his hand, but his eye sight is too poor…

 

” _Seize him! SEIZE HIM!_ ” Voldemort cries. 

 

Once more Quirrell lunges at Harry and knocks him back again. He grabs him by the throat with both hands and squeezes tightly. Harry gasps for breath, feeling his lungs sting from lack of oxygen… A howling scream rings out across the room, echoing around them… Harry struggles to remain conscious… _Who’s screaming? Is it me?_

 

Suddenly, Quirrell’s grip on his throat loosens and the hands move away. Harry wheezes and coughs. He tries to sit up, but Quirrell is still pinning him down with his knees on his chest. 

 

”Master, I am sorry — I cannot hold him — I don’t understand — my hands — _my hands_ —!”

 

Harry realises then that Quirrell must have been the one howling. The man is staring down at his hands, almost sobbing in pain. Even Harry can tell that they’ve been burnt raw, they’re that red. 

 

” _So kill him and be done with it!_ ” Voldemort snarls. 

 

Quirrell fumbles with his wand and although it clearly hurts him to grip it, he manages to hold it steady and points it at Harry’s heart.

 

 _This is it_ , Harry thinks, his heart stuttering. _He’ll kill me._

 

On pure instinct, Harry reaches up and puts his hands over Quirrell’s face, just as he opens his mouth to speak the curse —

 

”AAAARGH!!” 

 

Quirrell rolls off him, clutching his blistering face and howling in agony. With a jolt, Harry realises that — for some reason — Quirrell can’t touch Harry’s bare skin without suffering great pain… So his only chance of staying alive long enough for help to reach them, is to keep Quirrell in enough pain that he can’t perform the Killing Curse… 

 

Reinvigorated with hope, Harry struggles to his feet and launches himself at the man; he grabs a hold of his arm and holds on as tight as he can. 

 

Quirrell screams and tries to shake Harry off — Harry’s scar is searing again, but he screws his eyes shut and clings on to Quirrell’s arm for dear life — Voldemort shrieks at Quirrell to _Kill him, kill him, kill him_ , and someone else seems to be crying, _Harry, Harry!_

 

Suddenly, something grabs him from behind and wrenches him off Quirrell’s arm. _It’s over,_ Harry thinks, _all is lost_ … Then he is falling… further and further into darkness, down… down… 

 

 

The first thing Harry becomes aware of is lying down, but not on the hard surface of the stone floor in the chamber, but a bed… Not his own bed at home, and not his bed in the Slytherin dorms either, but an unfamiliar bed… Something is pinning his arms to his body, but not in the restraining way that the Devil’s Snare had him pinned, or Quirrell’s ropes, but rather as though someone had put a blanket over him and tucked him in… _Like daddy always does…_

 

The second thing he becomes aware of is several noises around him… Muffled voices mostly… And one or two choked sobs… Then a sniffle… He tries to make out what the voices are saying, but his head is still throbbing and the voices are constantly overlapping… It sounds like a hushed argument… _I hope they’re not fighting because of me_ , Harry thinks faintly and tries to blinks his eyes open… His eyelids are heavy, but soon he manages to peer out into the room… The voices quiet down immediately —

 

”Harry?” Remus exclaims. ”Harry! Oh, he’s awake — oh thank goodness —”

 

Someone puts his glasses onto his face and Harry blinks behind them, finally able to make out the faces of both his dads leaning over him, smiling in relief. Both Remus and Sirius have dark shadows under their eyes, but Remus looks worse; he looks like he hasn’t slept in a month. His eyes are raw from crying as well, Harry can tell and he feels guilt gripping his heart and squeezing it tightly. 

 

”D-da-ddy —?” he says, his voice breaking.

 

Remus immediately gathers him up in his arms and hugs him tightly, sniffling softly with his nose buried into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry feels his eyes sting and clings on to him.

 

”Don’t ever do that to me again”, the man murmurs thickly, and Harry nods. 

 

Remus pulls back swiftly, even though Harry tries to clutch his shoulders and hold on, and he fixes Harry with an intense look, ”Promise me, Harry!”

 

Harry scrunches his face up miserably and lets out a sob; Fresh tears well up in his eyes and tumble down his face as he cries, his fingers grappling with Remus’s shirt front, trying to make him _come back_ … He doesn’t care how immature he looks, he just wants his daddy…

 

He can hear Remus let out a half-choked sob, and then he’s hugging him tightly again — ” _Promise me,_ Harry” — Remus sits back on the bed, pulling Harry with him until Harry is more or less draped over his shoulder and clinging onto him like he never wants to let go.

 

Someone is carding their fingers through Harry’s hair, and without even looking to see who it is, Harry just _knows_ that it’s his dad. 

 

Eventually, when Harry has cried himself out, he goes limp in his daddy’s lap. He can hear his dads and Dumbledore talking in hushed voices again, even as his eyelids droop and he begins to doze off with his head resting on Remus’s shoulder. Then Remus is stroking the back of his head and nuzzling the side of his face, sniffing slightly and Harry smiles tiredly. 

 

”Harry…” Remus murmurs. ”You awake?”

 

”Mmm…” Harry says softly, blinking his eyes open once more, glancing around over his daddy’s shoulder he realises for the first time that he’s in the Hospital Wing.

 

”You can go back to sleep soon”, Remus says. ”Your dad and I just wanted to say goodbye —”

 

Harry immediately goes rigid and jerks his head up, staring wildy between his two dads, ”No, don’t leave me —!”

 

” _Shhh_ ”, Remus hushes gentle. ”It’s okay. We’re going to get a room in Hogsmeade and we’ll come back tomorrow.”

 

”You’re staying?”

 

”Yes, we’re staying for the night.”

 

”Just the one night?” Harry says, trying not to let too much of his disappointment shine through, well aware that he can’t expect his dads to just leave everything and keep him company in Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

 

”Harry… You’ve been unconscious for three days”, Remus says in a carefully neutral tone. ”Tomorrow is the last day of term. You won’t need to go to any of your classes, but… You dad and I thought it wouldn’t be fair to take you home and have you miss your first end-of-the-year feast… But afterwards, you are coming home with us.”

 

Remus gives Harry his stern look, as if expecting him to protest. But Harry doesn’t really care about going back on the Hogwarts Express. Of course, he might feel differently tomorrow… _But there’s something about having had a near death experience and being in a hospital bed_ , Harry thinks, _it just makes you want your dads close…_ So he just smiles and nods. 

 

”I wonder”, Professor Dumbledore says softly. ”If I might have a word with Harry —?”

 

”No”, Remus says shortly, without looking at the Headmaster. 

 

Sirius bites his lip to keep from saying anything, but he looks very apprehensive. And it is suddenly clear to Harry who was arguing when he was waking up. He glances over at his dad, who gives him a pinched little smile but winks discretely to show him that eveything’s okay. 

 

Remus takes a deep breath and gives Harry a big smile, tucking him in once more. Then he reaches back and grabs a Chocolate Frog from the very large pile of sweets piled on top of a table at the end of the bed. 

 

”Here, eat this”, he says matter-of-factly. ”And then try and get some more rest.”

 

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead, and for some reason the throbbing pain  in Harry’s scar seems to fade completely. 

 

Remus stands up to leave. 

 

”Wait —!” Harry says. ”Ron and Draco — are they —?”

 

”They’re fine”, Sirius says. ”Everything’s fine. You just get some rest, okay?”

 

”Okay…” Harry mumbles and settles back down. 

 

Professor Dumbledore steps aside politely to let Remus and Sirius pass, but Remus stops dead next to him and then holds out his arm in a rather exaggerated gesture as if to say _No, No, After You,_ and Dumbledore sighs softly and leaves the Hospital Wing first.

 

Harry catches Remus give Sirius a miffed look, but the other man quickly shakes his head and gently ushers him out of the room without a word. 

 

Madam Pomfrey, a nice but rather strict woman,  bustles in after Harry’s dads have left, tutting and muttering under her breath about visitors exhausting her patients, ”At least Mr Lupin had the sense to bring chocolate…”

 

”Madam Pomfrey?” Harry says. ”Do you know what happened to Professor Quirrell?”

 

The matron pretends not to have heard him, and just tuts some more. 

 

”Or why my daddy was angry with Professor Dumbledore —?”

 

”No”, she says sharply. ”Eat another frog and try and get some rest.”

 

”I’m not hungry”, Harry mutters sullenly. 

 

There’s a knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey stalks over to it and sticks her head out. Harry can hear muffled voices outside, but he can’t make out who they belong to. 

 

”Absolutely not!” Madam Pomfrey says. 

 

”Is that my friends?” Harry calls hopefully. ”Can they come inside? Please? Just for five minutes?”

 

”I said, no, Potter! You need _rest_!” Madam Pomfrey shouts back, her hand still on the door handle.

 

”But I am resting! Look, I’m lying down and everything! Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey, please…”

 

”Oh, very well — but five minutes _only_!” she says and pulls the door open. 

 

Draco pushes his way in first, running up to Harry’s bed and grasping his hand in both of his. Harry can see Ron shuffling inside after him, glaring at the blonde’s back but quickly plastering on a big smile when Harry catches his eye. 

 

”How are you feeling?” Draco says and Harry can tell he’s been crying as well. 

 

”I’m fine”, he says quickly. ”How are you guys?”

 

”Yeah, fine”, Ron says. ”I was in here with you the other day, but I got released yesterday morning and you still hadn’t woken up then…”

 

”And you?” Harry asks Draco softly, smiling when a subtle tint of pink erupts in his pale cheeks. 

 

”Fine… Been worried about you, of course… But fine.”

 

”Did you see my dads —?”

 

Ron and Draco exchange an awkward look. 

 

”What?” Harry says and frowns. 

 

”Er — yeah — we did”, Ron mumbles, his face going beet red. ”One of your dads sort of came storming in here, he was livid —”

 

”He was asking us — well, mostly me — about what happened”, Draco cuts in. 

 

”I thought he was going to rip our heads off —” Ron says and Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, because the idea that his daddy could ever hurt anyone is just absurd. 

 

”He was a little scary”, Draco agrees, looking apologetic. 

 

”Are you serious?” Harry says. ”My daddy?”

 

”Yeah…” Draco mumbles. ”Then Professor Snape came and — well — they started arguing and then your other dad and Snape got into a bit of a fight…”

 

Harry just looks between his two friends, not sure what to think. 

 

”You’re having me on?” he says after a moment, and they both shake their heads. 

 

”To be fair”, Ron says. ”No-one even knew if you were going to wake up again, so they were probably just dead worried, you know? My mum is just the same when she worries. She could out-shout banshee…”

 

”I’ve just never seen either of my dads fight with anyone…” Harry mumbles. ”And Snape, too… I was completely wrong about him… He’s the one who’s been trying to stop Quirrell all year…”

 

”Yeah, I know”, Draco says. ”I kind of went and got him after I left you… Well, I figured, if he was in his office or his chambers, then it obviously wasn’t him trying to get the Stone, so he could help… He went and got Dumbledore, then contacted your dads and Weasley’s parents.”

 

”Is he really angry with us — or — me, d’you think?”

 

”Probably”, Draco admits. ”But he’ll have time to cool down over the summer…”

 

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustles back in from her office and shoos Ron and Draco out, ”You’ve had fiftenn minutes — now OUT!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just wanted to say that I do like Dumbledore and I do not intend to "bash" him or make him OOC in this fic. However, in the scene when Harry wakes up in the Hospital Wing, since he's got Remus and Sirius there in this Universe, and Remus is quite angry with Dumbledore for putting Harry at risk by keeping the Philosopher's Stone in the school in the first place, Dumbledore doesn't get a change to speak with Harry about everything that's happened. (Also, the first time Harry and Dumbledore speak privately in the canon Universe is when Harry keeps going back to visit the Mirror of Erised, but my Harry doesn't do that because he has no need for it. Make sense?) 
> 
> So Harry and Dumbledore will have their moments in this fic, however, their relationship will not be as close as in canon, since as far as Harry is concerned, Dumbledore is just his Headmaster and they've barely even spoken to one another. 
> 
> Comments are my inspiration!


	7. Missing mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to get us into the timeline of "The Chamber of secrets"

It’s the evening before Harry’s twelfth birthday, but for the first time in his life Harry isn’t insisting on going to bed really early so that morning will appear to come faster and he isn’t feeling the least bit excited either. In fact — there’s no better word to describe it — Harry is sitting at his desk _sulking_ to himself. 

 

Both his dads have come to check on him at least twice since he excused himself from the dinner table, leaving his barely touched meal, to shut himself inside his room and… well, _sulk…_ But Harry simply shook his head when Remus offered to make him a cup of hot chocolate and sullenly declined when Sirius asked him if he wanted to head outside and practise his flying for an hour before bed. 

 

He has a fairly good reason for sulking though. Despite promising Harry that he would write him every other day during the summer, Draco has yet to send him a single letter. In fact, Harry hasn’t received any mail at all, all summer. Not one single letter, from any of his new friends.

 

His dads have tried to console him, saying that a lot of people go abroad during the summer and that’s probably the reason it’s taking the owls such a long time to deliver the letters. But in the past couple of days, Harry has started noticing the desperate glances the two men have shared and he knows that they don’t even buy that themselves anymore. 

 

A gentle rapping on his door brings Harry out of his thoughts and he glances over his shoulder at Remus who is standing in the open doorway, holding a steaming mug of chocolate and watching him with worried eyes. Harry sighs. He really doesn’t want to worry his dads, but he just can’t shake off this hopeless feeling that’s weighing him down, that gets heavier and heavier with every day. 

 

”How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Remus murmurs. 

 

”I’m fine”, Harry says dully. ”Just tired…”

 

”I made you some chocolate —”

 

”I already told you that I don’t want any!” Harry snaps, then immediately feels guilty and sighs again. ”Sorry…”

 

”May I come in?” Remus asks gently. 

 

Harry shrugs and turns back to the window in front of his desk. It’s pitch black outside, so he can only really see himself and the room behind him reflected in the glass. Remus steps over the threshold and approaches him silently, putting the mug of chocolate down on the desk without a word and stroking Harry over the head and neck. It makes Harry feel a little better, but he flinches and shakes his daddy’s hand off anyway. 

 

”Listen, why don’t I contact the Malfoys and see if we can arrange to meet up with them in Diagon Alley —?”

 

”I’m too old for arranged play dates, daddy!” Harry snaps. 

 

”It wouldn’t be a _play date_ ”, Remus assures him. ”I’ll just check with them at what time they were thinking of heading over there and see if they’d like some company, that’s all. We can offer to take Draco out for ice cream at Fortescue’s and the two of you can catch up!”

 

 _That’s_ exactly _like a play date,_ Harry thinks and stifles a sigh, but he doesn’t say anything because the truth is he’s missed Draco so much all summer that he doesn’t even care anymore. 

 

”I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation —”

 

”Daddy”, Harry cuts in. ”I’m really tired, I just want to go to bed, okay?”

 

”Yes, of course”, Remus mumbles. 

 

His hand hovers hesitantly over Harry’s head for a second, but then falls away without touching him and Harry feels his heart pinch with regret. 

 

Remus leaves the room again and silently slides the door shut after him. Harry turns around and stares at the closed door, feeling even worse than he’d done before. 

 

He grabs the hot chocolate and takes a sip, but almost immediately spits it out again as a small house-elf appears out of thin air on top of his unmade bed. The elf’s ears are large and bat-shaped, his bright green eyes staring unblinkingly at Harry are big and round like tennis balls.

 

”W-who are you?” Harry asks apprehensively. ”And what are you doing in my bedroom?”

 

”My name is Dobby, Sir… Dobby the house-elf”, the small creature says in a high-pitched squeaky voice and immediately jumps down from the bed and gives Harry a bow so low that his tiny, pencil-shaped nose brushes the carpet. ”It is an honour to meet mister Harry Potter, Sir…”

 

”Er — thanks, I guess”, Harry mutters. ”What — what are you doing in my room, though?”

 

”I has come to tell you, Sir… It is difficult, Sir… I is wondering where to begin…”

 

”Well, why don’t you sit down —?” Harry says politely and points at the bed, but a part of him wonders whether he shouldn’t call his dads.

 

To his utter bafflement, the elf bursts into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, ” _Sit down!_ ” he wails. ” _Never… never ever…_ ”

 

”I- I’m s-sorry!” Harry gasps. ”I didn’t mean to offend you —!”

 

” _Offend_?” Dobby shrieks. ” _Harry Potter_ offend _Dobby_? Oh no — I has never before been asked to sit down by a wizard — _like an equal_ —!”

 

”Oh — right”, Harry mutters. ”Well, I don’t mind if you have a seat… Hey, do your family know you’re here?”

 

Dobby shudders violently.

 

”Oh no, sir, no… Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir —”

 

”Right”, Harry says awkwardly, feeling a stab of pity as the elf pulls on his ears. ”So why are you here, then?”

 

”I has come to warn Harry Potter, sir…”

 

” _Warn_ me?”

 

”Yes, sir… Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry this year!”

 

”W-what?” Harry stammers. ”What do you mean? I have to go back —”

 

”No, no, no!” The house-elf squeals and shakes his head so wildly that his ear flap back and forth. ”Harry Potter must stay where he is safe! He is too great, too good, to lose! And if Harry Potter goes to Hogwarts this year, he will be in mortal peril… There is a plot, Harry Potter, sir… a plot to make most terrible things happen…”

 

”What terrible things?” Harry frowns. ”Who’s plotting them, and how come _you_ know about it?”

 

The house-elf makes a choking noise, then immediately runs over to the wall and starts banging his head madly against the doorframe. 

 

Harry hurries over and grabs him roughly by the arms and pulls him away from the wall, or any hard surface on which he can hurt himself. 

 

” _Harry_?” Sirius muffled voice calls up from the kitchen. ” _What are you doing_?”

 

”Stop it!” Harry hisses. ”Stop it, all right, I understand — you can’t say — but why are you warning _me_? Has it got anything to do with You-Know-Who —?”

 

The house-elf shakes his head firmly, his ears flapping again. 

 

”Look”, Harry says. ”I can’t just stay away from Hogwarts, I have to go!”

 

Once again the house-elf makes a choking sound, but Harry firmly holds onto his when he tries to grab the lamp off of Harry’s nightstand, _probably to bash it against his head or something…_

 

”Stop it!” Harry says firmly. ”I appreciate you trying to warn me, but I have to go to Hogwarts. I miss my friends —”

 

” _Harry_?” Sirius calls, a little closer this time, probably from the bottom of the staircase. 

 

”Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” Dobby cuts in and looks triumphant for a second, but when Harry’s frown deepens suspisciously, the elf’s ears immediately begin to droop and he wrings his hands anxiously. 

 

”How do _you_ know my friends haven’t been writing to me?” Harry demands. 

 

”Now, Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby, but… Dobby had hoped that if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him then… he might not want to go back to school, sir…”

 

” _You’ve been stealing my mail?_ ” Harry says through gritted teeth. ”Give me my letters right now!”

 

” _Harry, are you all right? Who are you talking to_?” Sirius calls from the hallway and raps gently on the the door.

 

”Harry Potter can have his letters, if he gives Dobby his word that he won’t go back to —”

 

”No! Give me my letters now! _Dad!_ _DAD_ —!”

 

The door immediately flies open and Sirius tumble inside, staring around the room in alarm — _”What, what? What is it?”_ — but Harry’s hand is suddenly clutching thin air; Dobby the house-elf has Disapparated… Harry jumps up and swears loudly. 

 

”Harry?” Sirius says. ”What —?”

 

”A bloody house-elf has stolen all my letters! All summer!”

 

”A _house-elf_ —?”

 

”He was just here — in my room, saying I can’t go back to school — _and he has my letters, dad_!”

 

”Harry, calm down…” Sirius says firmly and grabs him by the shoulders and steers him over to the bed and gently pushes him to sit on the edge, then crouches in front of him. ”Tell me slowly, from the beginning, what happened…”

 

Remus appears in the doorway, looking frazzled, ”What happened?”

 

”Harry says there was a house-elf in his room”, Sirius says, then looks at Harry again. ”It wasn’t Kreacher, was it?”

 

”No, his name was — ehm — Dotty or something — Daddy, he has been stealing my mail!”

 

” _What_?”

 

”He has all my letters! And he wouldn’t give them back!”

 

”But that’s ridiculous —”

 

”He said he hoped I wouldn’t want to go back to school if I thought my friends had forgotten me over the summer!”

 

”Why didn’t he want you to go back to school?” Remus frowns and sits down on the bed next to Harry, putting a comforting hand on his back. 

 

”He said there’s some plot to make terrible things happen at Hogwarts this year. But it didn’t have anything to do with You-Know-Who, at least…”

 

Remus and Sirius look at each other. 

 

”Should we contact Mad-Eye?” Remus says, but Sirius shakes his head. 

 

”He’s retired. Some young witch replaced him last year… We could make a formal complaint, but… There’s not much to go on —”

 

”Not much to go on?” Harry whines.

 

”Well… You know there are no official records of house-elves and their names, since they belong to the same wizarding family all their lives… I could ask around, see if anyone’s heard of a house-elf named — what was it, Dotty? — Yeah, but unless we happen to know the family he serves, it’s unlikely we’ll find him — I’ll ask around, though!” Sirius adds firmly as Harry’s face falls. 

 

”Well, at least now we know what’s happened to Draco’s letter, don’t we…” Remus says with a smile and rubs circles on Harry’s back. ”Let’s floo the Malfoys tomorrow morning and explain everything, and then we can arrange that outing in Diagon Alley as well.”

 

”Can’t we floo them now?” Harry begs hopefully. 

 

”No, it’s too late, Harry — No, really — Don’t give me that look. It’s not courteous to floo call after ten o’clock, especially on a weekday. I will call them after breakfast tomorrow.”

 

”Fine…” Harry relents. 

 

He crawls under the cover, thinking the sooner he goes to sleep, the sooner it will be morning. Remus gets to his feet and tucks him in before sitting back down again, his hand resting on top of Harry’s heart through the cover.

 

”Last night as an eleven-year-old”, Sirius says and grins. 

 

 _Oh, right, I almost forgot,_ Harry thinks. _I can’t believe I almost forgot my own birthday!_

 

”Yeah, I can’t believe how big you’ve got…” Remus says.

 

”You say that every year”, Harry says with a small smile.

 

”Yeah, well, you do keeping growing every year… Despite what your dad says!”

 

Sirius laughs. Remus pulls his hand away from Harry’s chest, but before he’s had a chance to stand up, Harry reaches out and catches his wrist. Remus sinks back down and gives Harry a knowing smile, then gently strokes his head. 

 

”Sleep tight, Harry…” Remus says and leans forward to kiss him on the forehead. 

 

”Good night…” Harry mumbles.

 

His dads walk out of the room and make sure to leave the door slightly ajar, so that the dim hallway light spills in. Harry isn’t exactly afraid of the dark, but ever since his run-in with Voldemort at the end of the school year, his nightmares have started up again. 

 

When he was really young, he would dream of green light and a woman screaming… As he got older and his dads told him about Voldemort, he started dreaming of this faceless shadow shouting _Avada Kedavra_ in a cold voice… After that Remus got him a Dreamcatcher and at the age of seven, Harry actually believed him when he said it would catch any nightmares before they could trickle into his sleeping head and eventually the nightmares stopped. 

 

But ever since Harry got back from his first year at Hogwarts, the nightmares started again and now, the shadow has a face… And glowing red eyes… And unfortunately, Harry is too big to believe in muggle superstitions like Dreamcatchers. But the hallway light helps a little, at least until he falls asleep. 

 

Harry wakes up with a start, his fringe glued to his forehead by a sticky layer of cold sweat. He can hear his dads’ muffled voices on the other side of the door, but the nightmare lingers in the corner of  his still foggy mind, a cold voice hissing, _seize him, seize him, kill him…_

 

The door slides open and Harry hears an intake of breath, but no-one starts singing Happy Birthday to you… He fumbles around after his glasses on top the nightstand and has just pushed them onto his face when Remus hurriedly sits down on the side of the bed and wipes his wet fringe away to feel his forehead. 

 

” ’m fine”, Harry mumbles, even as he shivers and shakes. 

 

”Oh Harry…” Remus murmurs and gathers him into his warm arms. 

 

Sirius gingerly puts the cake down on top of the dresser, then licks some frosting off his hands before he crouches down next to the bed. Harry realises Remus must have stopped the levitation charm on the cake when he saw the state Harry was in and left Sirius to catch it when he rushed over to the bed to make sure Harry was alright. It doesn’t look ruined though, Harry sees. The frosting has some finger-shaped indentations, that’s all. 

 

”I’m fine, daddy”, Harry says again and his voice doesn’t tremble this time. 

 

Remus sits back, but continues to stroke Harry’s head gently, ”Did you have another nightmare?”

 

”I… I don’t remember…” Harry lies and looks down. 

 

”Okay”, Sirius says swiftly and stands up. ”Ready, Moony? One, two, three, four —”

 

Harry grins as both his dads begin singing at the top of their voices. Remus can actually carry a tune and knows the melody, but Sirius seems to go for loud rather than accurate and his voice breaks on the high notes, but it doesn’t seem to faze him one bit and it makes Harry laugh. 

 

”Merlin, you get worse every year…” Remus mumbles with a fond look at Sirius who merely shrugs carelessly and then beams at Harry.

 

”Go on, runt… Open your presents!” 

 

With the nightmare now completely forgotten, Harry lights up even further and scrambles over to the foot of the bed where a small pile of presents have been stacked. He eagerly looks through them all, reading the labels of every single one before deciding which to open first. His spirits sink somewhat when he realises that there isn’t a present from Draco, but he forces the thought to the back of his mind and tears into a small, badly wrapped bundle with Ron’s spikey handwriting on the label. 

 

After he’s opened the presents from his friends Ron and Seamus, Harry starts on the ones from his dads and happily hugs them as soon as he’s opened the last one. 

 

”There’s another surpise in the kitchen…” Remus says. ”The mail finally arrived…”

 

Harry’s heart leaps and he quickly scrambles out of bed and runs into the kitchen. On the table, several birthday cards are lined up and he quickly picks them up one by one and turns them over to see who they’re all from. He’s got one each from his housemates Blaise, Adrian and Terence, one from the Weasley family and, surprisingly, from Hermione Granger. But none from Draco. Harry sinks down on his chair at the table and stares at the row of cards. 

 

He can’t believe he got a card from Granger, whom he’s barely spoken three words to all year, but not one from his supposedly best friend… _Although,_ he thinks, _I suppose when you save someone from a mountain troll, it’s to be expected that they send you a card for your birthday…_  

 

But still, nothing from Draco.

 

His dads file into the kitchen behind him and start puttering around, finishing cooking breakfast and repairing the cake. Remus is humming under his breath, but stops immediately when he sits down across from Harry and sees the look on his face. Harry quickly gives him a smile, but it’s strained at best. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”It’s fine…”

 

Remus’s frown deepens and he looks down at the row of cards, quickly scanning the names on each. A look of understanding smoothes out the lines in his face. 

 

”It’s fine”, Harry mutters again. 

 

”I’ll floo Malfoy Manor right now”, Remus says. ”We can explain about the missing mail…”

 

”It’s not even eight o’clock”, Harry says. ”You always say never floo before ten in the morning and after ten at night.”

 

”Yes, well”, Remus mutters. ”It’s a weekday, so… We might miss them, if we wait until ten, won’t we… I’ll use the fireplace in the sitting room, you start breakfast…”

 

”Who are these from then?” Sirius asks with slightly more enthusiasm than the situation requires, obviously trying to distract Harry while Remus gets a hold of Draco’s parents. 

 

”Ehm, this one’s from Blaise… These are from Adrian Pucey and Terence Higgs —”

 

”Pucey and Higgs?” Sirius says. ”Don’t think you’ve mentioned them?”

 

”Well, they’re older than me, but they’re cool… They’re both on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Well, Terence just graduated, but he was the Seeker — Draco and I are going to try out for the team now, and I really hope I get to be the new Seeker!”

 

”James was the Seeker on the Gryffindor team”, Sirius says with a grin. ”So it’s in your blood!”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says with an awkward smile. 

 

It’s not that he isn’t proud of his biological parents, but he feels awkward talking about them. Especially when people call them his parents, or James his father, because it makes it sound like Remus and Sirius aren’t really his parents, his dads, _and they are…_

 

Sirius grin softens and he takes a deep breath, glancing at the remaining two cards in the table. 

 

”And these two?”

 

”Oh, ehm, yeah that’s from Ron’s family — the Weasleys — and that’s from a Gryffindor girl called Hermione Granger —”

 

”Oh really?” Sirius says with playful leer, and Harry feels his face heat up. ”Getting noticed by the girls already? Girls in other houses even!”

 

”Dad…” Harry mutters. 

 

”I’m just saying!”

 

”She doesn’t like me that way”, Harry insists. ”I just saved her from that troll…”

 

”Oh, it’s _her_ … Well, if she doesn’t like you that way after you saved her from a mountain troll, there’s something amiss —” 

 

”Dad —!” Harry says again, and Sirius barks out a laugh. 

 

”What are we laughing about?” Remus says, coming back into the kitchen. 

 

”Nothing!” Harry says quickly. ”Did you… Did they…”

 

”I got a hold of Narcissa”, Remus confirms and takes his seat at the table again. ”And according to her, Draco has been wasting away in his room all summer…”

 

”Why?” Harry gasps. ”What’s happened?”

 

” _Well_ … Since you haven’t been replying to any of his letters all summer, he’s apparently been rather heartsick”, Remus replies with a smile, but what’s so funny about, Harry really doesn’t see. ”Relax, Harry… I explained everything to Narcissa and she promised to send us an owl as soon as she’d talked to Draco. She also offered to take you and Draco out for the day in Diagon Alley. I said I’d double check with you, but that it sounded like a lovely idea… Sirius, do you think you’ll be able to go to Gringotts today?”

 

”Yeah, I should have time before work”, the other man nods. ”Do you have Harry’s book list?”

 

”Yeah, I’ll get it for you before you leave… But I think ten galleons should be more than enough.”

 

Harry feels about two tons lighter than he did last night and he happily tucks into his breakfast, keenly aware of his dads amused looks, but he doesn’t care. _Draco hasn’t forgotten me over the summer after all…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make Harry a little less perceptive during his run-in with Dobby, so he wouldn't remember his name correctly (for obvious reasons...)


	8. Ice cream and books

Harry is still buzzing with excitement as he bounds down the stairs the next morning, but it quickly subsides as he stumbles into the kitchen and catches the glum looks on his dads faces, even though they quickly send pinched smiles his way to hide the traces of their serious conversation. 

 

”What?” Harry demands. ”What’s wrong?”

 

”Nothing’s _wrong_ , Harry”, Remus says with a gentle sigh and guides him to his seat at the table. 

 

”Draco didn’t write?” Harry says in a small voice, completely ignoring the breakfast set in front of him. 

 

”Narcissa owled late last night”, Remus reassures him. ”Everything’s fine, and Draco can’t wait to spend the day with you.”

 

Harry glances over at Sirius suspiciously. The other man has pushed the chair back from the table and is balancing on its two back legs, staring at the ceiling. 

 

”Okay… So I can still go—?”

 

”Yes—” Remus says, but is immediately interrupted by Sirius rather louder voice, ”Yes, we’re all going, thought we’d make a day of it!”

 

”Sirius…” Remus mutters warningly. 

 

”If Lucius is going, then I’m going!” Sirius bellows and lets his chair fall back onto all fours with a loud _bang_ that makes Harry jump slightly. 

 

”Keep your voice down”, Remus growls. 

 

Harry looks worriedly between his dads, his heart pounding in his chest. He can’t remember having ever seen his dads actually fight before. He’s caught plenty of looks they’ve thrown each other, and he’s walked in on what he’s assumed to be arguments between them but they’ve always covered it up quickly and cheerily changed the subject whenever he’s shown up. This is the first time either of them has raised their voice at the other in front of him, and for some reason it scares him. 

 

”I don’t have to go”, he blurts out. 

 

The two men turn to look at him in surprise, and the fight dissipates as quickly as it flared up, along with the tension in Sirius shoulders. 

 

”No, no”, the man says wearily. ”Of course you can go, Harry…”

 

”I don’t want to anymore”, Harry insists, but judging by the other men’s chuckles he figures he’s not very convincing. 

 

”How about _I_ go with them?” Remus suggests, reaching out to squeeze Sirius hand gently. 

 

”Would you?” the man asks hopefully. 

 

”Sure”, Remus assures him soothingly. ”I think that’s the best compromise.”

 

”They’ll know why”, Sirius mutters. 

 

”I don’t care”, Remus says and shrugs. ”They won’t be surprised. Why else would Narcissa have mentioned where Lucius is going? She wanted us to know, so we could make a decision—”

 

Harry finds himself leaning in eagerly as he listens to the grown-up conversation unusually displayed before him, barely believing his luck as his mind whirrs with a hundred questions. But before any of them are accidentally answered, Sirius gives Remus a silencing look and throws a meaningful glance in Harry’s direction. 

 

”Well, that’s settled then!” Remus says cheerily and gets to his feet, and Harry leans back in his seat with a disappointed sigh and starts picking at his cooling toast as Remus walks by him with a gentle pat on his shoulder. ”I’ll go floo Malfoy Manor right now and let them know…”

 

Remus arranges to meet up with the Malfoys in The Leaky Cauldron just before noon and then spends the rest of the morning fussing over Harry’s clothes and trying to get his hair under control with a wet comb. Harry finally ducks away after an especially painful yank and Remus gives up with a sigh. 

 

”It’s getting worse”, he mutters. ”Maybe we should just cut it—”

 

”No!” Harry grumbles, definitiely not the for the first time in his life and probably not the last either, unfortunately. ”I like it this long!”

 

”Well it’s getting longer, that’s what happens when you never cut it…”

 

”Just leave it, Moony”, Sirius says, grinning from the doorway. ”You need to get going anyway…”

 

”Why can’t we Apparate?” Harry asks curiously as Remus ushers him over to the sitting room fireplace. 

 

”I’m feeling a little under the weather”, Remus says cryptically. ”I rather not risk Side-Along Apparation just at the moment. It’s okay, we can floo straight into The Leaky Cauldron.”

 

Harry shrugs. He really hates Apparating anyway, it always makes him nauseous. He catches Sirius giving Remus a gentle smile, then quickly looks away as the two men lean in for a kiss. 

 

”Have a good day, you two”, Sirius says and ruffles Harry’s hair fondly, receiving an exasperated look from Remus. 

 

”I’ll go first”, Remus says, grabbing a handful of floo powder and then steps into the grate. ” _The Leaky Cauldron_!”

 

”Harry”, Sirius says and squeezes his shoulder. ”You be good and listen to your daddy today, okay? If he says you can’t go somewhere, even if Draco and his parents are going, then you don’t go, understood?”

 

”Like where?” Harry asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

 

”Anywhere. Just listen to Remus. Okay?”

 

”Yeah, of course I will…”

 

”Good lad”, Sirius murmurs and gives him a quick hug. ”Now, have fun today!”

 

Harry grins and nods, eagerly stepping into the fireplace and reaching for the floo powder Sirius holds out. He grabs a big handful and then takes a deep breath, going over the destination a couple of times in his head, so he’ll get the words exactly right, just in case… _The Leaky Cauldron, The Lea-ky Caul-dron…_

 

Sirius gives him an encouraging nod and grins when Harry very slowly and deliberately raises his arm, floo powder dripping from his fist. 

 

” _The Leaky Cauldron_!” 

 

Harry throws the floo powder at his feet and immediately great green flames roar to life all around him and he feels himself begin to spin. He catches sight of a few fireplaces circling around him in the darkness, then squeezes his eyes shut before he starts to get motion sickness. 

 

Just as suddenly as the spinning started, it stops again. Harry feels the familiar tickle of floo flames lick around his legs briefly, before he stumbles out of another fireplace and straight into the waiting arms of his daddy. Harry gratefully grabs a hold of the man’s arms until he gets his legs to steady under him and then he straightens up. 

 

Remus starts to brush the soot from his clothes with a brush he must have brought from home and Harry obediently turns around slowly to give him better access, vaguely aware of the pub’s ruckus dying down with a hush as the patrons become aware of his presence. 

 

A murmur of excited whispers slowly starts to replace the hush, like a cauldron reaching boiling point and Harry catches his name mentioned several times. He glances at Remus uncertainly, but the man is clearly ignoring the attention they’re receiving. 

 

”Harry!” someone yells happily over the noise suddenly and Harry spins around excitedly. 

 

Over at the muggle entrance to the pub, Draco Malfoy breaks away from his parents and runs over to the fireplace and almost knocks Harry off his feet as he crashes into him. Harry laughs and eagerly wraps his arms around his friend, hugging him back. All the subtle smells that make up the scent that is simply _Draco_ wash over Harry all at once and his stomach flutters pleasantly. 

 

”I missed you”, Draco whispers, before finally letting go again, just in time for his parents to catch up with him and give him disapproving looks. 

 

”Really, Draco”, Narcissa mutters quietly. ”We’re in a public place… Mr Lupin, so nice to meet you at last—”

 

She extends a delicate hand and Remus shakes it with a polite smile that he then turns on Lucius and offers him his hand as well. Lucius makes a show of transferring his walking stick from his right hand to his left and removing one of his leather gloves, before finally shaking Remus’s hand with a tight smirk. 

 

”And Mr Potter”, Narcissa continues seamlessly, as though there hadn’t just been a great big awkward pause thanks to her husband. ”Nice to see you again… I must say, you’ve grown quite a bit over the summer!”

 

Harry feels his cheeks heat up slightly, but smiles at her and shakes her hand. He glances over at Draco shyly and it strikes him for the first time that the meagre inches of his own growth spurt is nothing compared to the blonde’s transformation. Draco is now almost a head taller than him and although his frame is still lithe, his shoulders have definitely started to broaden... Harry flushes deeper as Draco catches him staring. 

 

Lucius looks away in a subtle show of disapproval as the boys share a shy smile, but Remus and Narcissa exchange an amused look. 

 

”Well, shall we?” Remus suggests politely. ”I thought we could all have lunch together, before we start shopping for the boys supplies, if that’s okay with you?”

 

”That’s a splendid idea”, Narcissa says smoothly. 

 

As soon as they’ve all stepped through the barrier to Diagon Alley, Narcissa suggests a restaurant called _The Griffin_ about halfway down the main street and they all make their way to it. Remus and Narcissa seem intent to make polite small talk at the head of the small group, leaving the boys to walk together and giving them some privacy. 

 

 _Well,_ Harry thinks, uncomfortably aware of Lucius eyes burning holes in the back of his head, _privacy is a bit of an exaggeration…_

 

Draco’s fingers brush against the inside of his palm suddenly, and Harry feels his stomach jolt in excitement. 

 

 _Was it by accident, or did he mean to do it?_ he thinks nervously and glances sideways at the other boy. 

 

Draco glances back and smiles, then brushes his hand again. Harry immediately lets his arm still along his side and angles his hand a little outward. Draco slips his fingers through Harry’s and slides his palm into place against his and Harry releases a breath he wasn’t even aware of holding and gently squeezes the other boy’s hand.

 

”Here we are!” Remus says in an unnecessarily loud voice, and Harry and Draco immediately let go of each other again. ”Yes, this looks very nice Narcissa. Good choice.”

 

Narcissa’s mouth twitches and she inclines her head politely, then leads the way inside the small restaurant.  

 

Lunch is a rather tense affair, despite all three grown-ups making polite small talk, since Remus and Lucius seem to be engaged in some kind of stare down for most of the meal. Harry and Draco try their best to ignore them and exchange shy glances and small smiles, each of which cause Harry’s insides to flap and flutter pleasantly.

 

As they all file out of the restaurant, Lucius says he has some errands to attend to in a place called _Knockturn Alley_ and Draco and Narcissa both turn to gaze down the main street with matching looks of neutral boredom on their faces. Harry looks at his daddy curiously. Remus has gone all tense again and the smile he gives Lucius is decidedly fake.

 

”That’s alright, we can meet you in _Flourish and Blotts_ ”, he says quickly, then turns to Narcissa. ”I thought we’d save the books for last, so we don’t have to carry them around all afternoon.”

 

”That’s a good idea”, Narcissa says with another incline of her head, before she turns to Draco and places the tips of her fingers gently on top of his shoulder. ”Draco darling, why don’t you take Harry to Florean Fortescue’s for an ice cream… Mr Lupin and I will join you shortly.”

 

”Yes mother”, Draco says quickly and grabs Harry by the hand. ”Come on, Harry!”

 

When the boys enter Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour, Draco eagerly shoulders his way to the very front of the cue in order to see all the different ice cream flavours and Harry smiles apologetically at the people he’s pushed aside. 

 

One witch gives him a withering glare as she repositions her crying toddler from one hip to the other and Harry mouths _Sorry_ , before sidling up to Draco who is pulling on his arm excitedly. 

 

”Draco, we have to wait our turn”, Harry whispers. 

 

Draco frowns in confusion, ”What?”

 

”There are people waiting…” 

 

Draco looks around in surprise, ”So?”

 

Harry sighs, ”Never mind… What do you want?”

 

Draco takes his sweet time deciding his flavours, but finally orders a cherry sauce dripping four-scoop ice cream tower, swaying precariously in a waffle cone, and then proceeds to lick sticky, multi-coloured drops from the back of his hand until Harry has got his own cone, then insists on paying for them both. 

 

”You don’t have to, I’ve got money”, Harry mumbles and holds up his Galleon to illustrate his point. 

 

Draco gives him a funny look and promptly shoves his arm away, ” _I’m_ taking _you_ out for ice cream, you dolt. That means _I_ pay, so put your gold away!”

 

”Oh, okay. Thanks then…” Harry mutters shyly and quickly turns away to hide his burning cheeks. ”Let’s sit over by the window!”

 

They squeeze together on a small settee crammed into the narrow space between the window, the table and a rather massive weeping fig, getting each other up to speed with everything that’s happened over the hols. Draco tells Harry all about the three weeks he spent in France with his mother at the start of the summer, and Harry tells Draco about the mail thieving house elf that appeared in his room. 

 

”It’s simply outrageous!” Draco hisses. ”If I had that creature here right now, I’d wring its neck!”

 

”I almost did”, Harry mutters. ”But I suppose he was just trying to help, in his own way…”

 

”I don’t care! That was way out of line and as a house elf, it should have known better!”

 

”Yeah, I know… But he said something really terrible is going to happen at Hogwarts this year.”

 

”Like what? They’re going to hide another philosopher’s stone there?” 

 

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, ”Merlin I’ve missed you…”

 

A subtle tint of pink creeps into Draco’s cheeks and he ducks his head a little, but smiles happily. 

 

By the time Remus and Narcissa comes to get them, Harry has finished his ice cream and Draco is munching on the soggy leftovers of his waffle cone. Narcissa takes the seat opposite the boys, insisting Draco finish eating before they leave and hands him a thick wad of tissues to clean his hands and face, even though he hasn’t left a single drop of ice cream on either as far as Harry can tell. Draco doesn’t complain however, but keeps wiping his fingers meticulously until Narcissa’s intense stare softens and she finally looks away, seemingly bored again. 

 

*

 

When they finally make their way to _Flourish and Blotts_ , Harry notices the crowd around them getting larger and larger. In fact, it seems as though all of Diagon Alley has suddenly decided to visit the old bookshop at the same time.

 

”What’s going on, daddy?” he asks Remus, who is craning his neck to get a better look. 

 

”There’s a book signing”, he replies and points to a gigantic banner stretching across the shop window and doorway. 

 

As they get closer to the shop and the tall wizard in front of Harry slips inside the store, Harry finally gets a good look at the banner and can read the gold letters: 

 

_”GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12.30-4.30 pm”_

 

”Gilderoy Lockhart”, Harry murmurs. ”Where have I heard that name before…”

 

”Your book list”, Remus says.

 

Harry quickly gets his Hogwarts letter out of his robe pocket and scans the book list. Sure enough, out of the eight titles he’ll need aquire for his second year at Hogwarts, seven are written by this Gilderoy Lockhart. _Whoever has taken over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts after Professor Quirrell, they’re clearly a huge fan of this Lockhart guy_ , Harry thinks.  

 

”Come on”, Remus urges and ushers the boys in front of him, through the small crowd jostling outside the door. ”Keep moving to the back of the store…”

 

”Calmly, please ladies”, a short stressed-looking wizard standing just inside the door begs the crowd, that is in fact mainly made up of middle-aged witches, Harry notices now. ”Don’t push, there madam… mind the books, now…”

 

”Keep moving”, Remus urges again and gives Harry a gentle shove. 

 

They keep weaving their way through the enthusiastic crowd and finally emerges on the other side, moving into the deserted travel section of the store.

 

”There”, Remus says. ”Now we can all breathe while we get your books…”

 

”Yeah, but… All the books we need will be over there, won’t they?” Draco says, pointing towards the chaotic book-signing in the back.

 

”Right…” Remus mutters. ”That’s alright. I’ll go get your books and you wait here… Where’s Narcissa?”

 

”Probably waiting outside”, Draco says. ”She doesn’t like people all that much.”

 

”Right”, Remus mutters again. ”Well. I won’t be long. Stay here…”

 

”Harry! _Harry_!”  

 

Harry turns around in surprise and barely registers the brown, bushy mane of one Hermione Granger bobbing towards him before he’s enveloped in a massive hug. He staggers back from the sudden impact, then awkwardly pats the Gryffindor girl’s back. She releases him again and grins excitedly, her large front teeth glinting in the dusty sunlight. Harry smiles back. 

 

”How was your summer?” he asks her politely. 

 

”Oh, just marvellous!” she exclaims, then noticing Draco for the first time she gives him a quick nod. ”Hi Draco, how are you?”

 

”Fine”, Draco mutters shortly, then swiftly turns away to ignore them both.

 

Harry gives Hermione an apologetic look.

 

”Have you seen Ron?” Hermione says, and Draco turns back again just as swiftly. ”He was just here… We met up in Gringotts earlier, I’m here with my parents, oh you must meet them Harry, they’re ever so excited — oh here they are —!”

 

Hermione nods towards something over Harry’s shoulder and he turns around to see what looks like the entire Weasley clan making their way through the crowd, accompanied by a slightly odd-looking couple wearing atypical muggle denims and snug-fitting jumpers instead of robes. _Granger’s parents,_ Harry realises. 

 

”Over here!” Hermione yells and waves her arm. 

 

”Harry!” Ron exclaims happily as he hurries over and Harry grins back. 

 

”Hiya Ron! Fred, George, Mr Weasley…”

 

The three older wizards all shake his hand happily, then he turns back to Ron whose face has gone red for some reason, and the boy reaches out and puts a hand on top of Harry’s shoulder awkwardly. 

 

”This is Ginny, Harry”, one of the twins say, interrupting the moment and Harry feels strangely relieved as Ron’s hand immediately drop off his shoulder again. 

 

The twin gestures towards a small, redhaired girl whom Harry hadn’t even seen at first and he smiles at her. Her face goes beet red within seconds and she quickly looks down, shaking her red hair into her face to hide it. 

 

”Harry, these are my parents”, Hermione says. ”Mum, dad, this is Harry Potter.”

 

Harry shakes Mr and Mrs Granger’s hands as well and smiles tensely when they thank him for saving their daughters life. 

 

” _Harry Potter!_ ” an unfamiliar voice exclaims suddenly over the excited murmur of the crowd and a hush immediately breaks out in the small bookshop.

 

With dread pooling in his stomach, Harry slowly turns around. Every single person in the small bookshop is staring back at him, including a blonde wizard clad in forget-me-not blue robes that exactly matches his eyes, surrounded by large pictures of his own face. 

 

”Harry Potter”, a small, scowling wizard brandishing a large camera yelps and hurtles through the crowd to grab Harry’s arm.

 

Harry tries to resist and looks around in panic, searching the crowd for his daddy, but can’t see him anywhere. He stumbles after the persistant cameraman as the crowd parts to let them pass and before he knows it, he’s been pushed towards the blonde wizard in blue robes, who immediately slams his arm around Harry’s shoulders and clamps him to his side, before turning to beam at the camera. 

 

A small cloud of purple smoke errupts as the short wizard takes a photograph of the two of them, before dancing back a few paces to take another one. 

 

”Nice big smile now, Harry”, the blonde wizard says through his teeth. ”Together, you and I, will definitely make the front page!”

 

For the first time, Harry realises this blonde fop must be Gilderoy Lockhart himself. 

 

”Ladies and gentlemen”, the man says loudly, his grin never wavering. ”What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him with now, free of charge —”

 

The crowd applauds. 

 

”But he had no idea”, Lockhart continues. ”That he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical me_ … He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the _real_ magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

 

The crowd applauds again, cheering excitedly this time. Harry finds himself pushed away from Lockhart again, but before he can slip away completely, someone thrusts a whole tower of books into his arms and he almost trips over. 

 

He staggers back and knocks into a body. 

 

”S-Sorry —” he gasps and twirls around, trying to keep the pile of books from toppling.

 

Remus’ arms shoot out to steady him. 

 

”Daddy!” Harry gasps. ”I couldn’t find you —!”

 

”I was at the counter, paying for your books…”

 

”Someone just gave me these”, Harry mumbles uncertainly. 

 

”It’s his collected works, isn’t it?” Remus mutters. ”Great. As if one set wasn’t useless enough… Go and wait with the Malfoys, Harry, while I go return these…”

 

When Harry rejoins his friends in the travel section, Narcissa is still nowhere to be seen but her husband has appeared next to Draco and seems to be having a rather tense conversation with Mr Weasley. 

 

”—busy time at the Ministry, with all those raids… I do hope they’re paying you overtime, Arthur”, Lucius sneers, then reaches into Ginny Weasley’s cauldron and extracts a very old and battered copy of _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_. ”Obviously not… Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

 

Mr Weasley flushes an even darker shade of red than Ginny, ”We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.”

 

”Clearly…” Lucius says as his pale grey eyes stray over to Mr and Mrs Granger. ”The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower —”

 

There is a sudden _clang_ of metal against stone, as Arthur Weasley throws himself at Lucius, knocking Ginny’s cauldron out of her hands and sending it crashing to the floor in the process. Lucius is knocked backwards into a bookshelf and dozens of books thunders down on all of their heads. 

 

”Get him dad!” the twins shout as the two men continue to tussle along the bookshelves, causing more books to rain down on them. 

 

”Gentlemen, please — _please_ —!” the shop assistant cries from the midst of the retreating crowd, murmuring and moving away from the fight like a herd of startled sheep. 

 

”Harry!” Remus shouts worriedly as he breaks away from them. 

 

Grabbing Harry with one hand and Draco with the other, Remus quickly ushers them into the safety behind another bookshelf, before he jumps in and positions himself between the two fighting men, holding each at an arm’s length and yelling at them both to pull themselves together. 

 

Mr Weasley pants heavily but finally nods, sucking his split lip into his mouth as he lets the _Encyclopedia of Toadstools,_ that is to blame for the steadily darkening black eye on Lucius face, slip from his fingers. Lucius rearranges his robes and hair with a haughty huff, tossing Ginny’s old Transfiguration book back into her cauldron. 

 

”Here, girl — have your book — it’s the best your father can give you!”

 

”That’s enough!” Remus barks, quickly maneovering Mr Weasley back behind him again as the man tries to lunge at Lucius once more. ”Both of you! There are kids here, for Merlin’s sake!”

 

Remus makes sure to keep himself between the two men until Lucius has stormed out of the store, then he quickly grabs Harry and Draco by the hands and leads them outside. Lucius and Narcissa seem to be having a quiet argument, but stop as soon as they’re joined by the others. 

 

”Well, I think that’s quite enough for one day”, Narcissa says. ”Draco, say goodbye to Harry.”

 

Draco lets go of Remus’ hand and gives both him and Harry an embarassed look. Remus gives him a small smile, but that only seems to make Draco more uncomfortable. 

 

”I’ll see you soon”, Harry says. 

 

Draco nods, ”Yeah… See you…”

 

Harry and Remus stay outside Flourish and Blotts and watch the Malfoys disappear down the street. Draco looks back over his shoulder once and Harry immediately waves at him, but the blonde doesn’t wave back. 

 

”Come on, Harry”, Remus murmurs gently after a while and steers him back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

 

Later that night, Harry lies in his bed pretending to sleep as he listens to Remus tell Sirius all about it. 

 

”I mean to say! In front of _all of our children_ , not to mention the rest of the customers, the new Defence professor and a photographer from the Prophet! What kind of example are they setting for the kids, resorting to violence at the slightest provocation like that, I mean _really_ —!”

 

”Calm down, Moony”, Sirius soothing voice interrupts the tirade finally. ”No-one was hurt… it’s over now…”

 

”You should have seen Draco’s face, he was mortified… _and Harry_ —!”

 

”It’s over now”, Sirius repeats firmly. 

 

”You’d think we were still in school”, Remus mutters stubbornly. 

 

He is finally silenced however, not by anything his husband says but, judging from a familiar humming noise he makes, a deep kiss. Harry smiles to himself and finally closes his eyes, letting sleep overtake him for real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update -- I was away for a month, performing at Edinburgh Fringe Festival :)


	9. There's no place like Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is back for his second year at Hogwarts, despite the thieving house-elf Dotty's warnings, but already it looks like those warnings might have been founded on fact...

On the morning of the first of September Harry is abruptly awoken by a sudden explosion of light as the window blinds are pulled up. He groans and curls up, pulling the cover over his head to shield himself from the bright morning sun, but he’s barely managed to secure the fabric around his head when the whole thing is wrenched away from him.

 

”Daddy…” he croaks out in a whine. 

 

But when he squints up at the man towering over him, it’s not Remus’s shaggy hair and lithe frame that he makes out through the blurriness, but Sirius’ wavy hair curling against his slightly broader shoulders. 

 

” _Dad_?”

 

”Rise and shine, runty!” the man exclaims and hands him his glasses. 

 

Harry carefully slips the spectacles onto his face and Sirius wide grin comes into focus slowly as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. 

 

”Where’s daddy?” 

 

”Having a lie-in”, Sirius says nonchalantly and turns away to survey Harry’s half-packed trunk. ”Your breakfast is on the table, you go eat while I finish packing your school stuff, okay?”

 

”He’s ill again, isn’t he?” Harry murmurs, watching his dad’s face closely for any sign of… _well, anything_ … but Sirius face is a mask of cool, and he even shoots Harry a carefree smile that’s so convincing, Harry almost relaxes. _Almost_. 

 

”Your daddy is going to be fine. He’s just tired”, Sirius says seriously. ”Don’t worry about it, Harry. Really, he’s fine.”

 

”So he’s not going away?” Harry says doubtfully. 

 

”No, no, I shouldn’t think so…” Sirius mumbles and turns away again, bunching up some robes and cramming them into a narrow space between two book piles in Harry’s trunk. ”Now get dressed and go have some breakfast, Harry — we’ll need to leave in about half an hour, okay —?”

 

”So if daddy is fine, he’s coming to see me off at King’s Cross, right?” Harry insists.

 

Sirius sighs and tosses a pair of socks on top of the bulging contents of Harry’s trunk, then slowly shuts the lid and sits down on top of it. 

 

”No, Harry… Daddy’s not coming to see you off. He really wanted to, but —”

 

”Doesn’t matter”, Harry mumbles quickly and, before the stinging in his eyes has a chance to build up into fully-fledged tears, he scrambles off the bed. 

 

Avoiding Sirius’s sympathetic eyes, he darts passed him to flee the room, but Sirius is quicker; he reaches out and scoops Harry up with one arm, then gently reins him in. Harry twists feebly in his grasp and tries to pull away, however Sirius is stronger and soon he’s got Harry cradled into his side. Harry stays still in the half-embrace, unresisting but rigid, and refuses to look up and meet his dad’s gaze. 

 

”Of course it matters”, Sirius says softly. ”Harry… There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, in this world that matters more to your daddy and me, than you… Okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry mutters thickly, blinking desperately. 

 

”Sometimes though, there are… _things_ beyond our control, that make it… _complicated_ for us, like your daddy’s condition.”

 

”Condition?” Harry repeats fearfully and finally looks up, but Sirius just gives him a reassuring smile and combs his fingers through the hair in the back of his neck. ”Is he… is he really going to be f-fine? I-I mean… You’d tell me if — if he — you’d _tell me_ , wouldn’t you?”

 

”Yes, I promise”, Sirius says. ”But he _really will be fine…_ Now, come one! _”_

 

_*_

 

Harry climbs into the sidecar of Sirius’s motorcycle and then carefully manoeuvres Hedwig’s cage into the space between his legs after Sirius hands it to him. The snowy-white bird flaps her wings and hoots reproachfully as Harry accidentally kicks the cage trying to make room between his feet. Sirius shrinks his trunk to the size of a bludger and hands that to him as well.

 

”Sorry, Hedwig”, Harry mumbles, twisting his feet further apart to make more room so he can fit the trunk into his lap.

 

”Ready?” Sirius says with an excited grin and hands him his helmet. 

 

”Yeah!” Harry says and tilts his chin up so that Sirius can help him secure the helmet. 

 

Remus barely ever lets Harry ride on the motorcycle with Sirius, so it’s a rare treat and Harry only feels a little guilty about it, considering the only reason he’s riding in the sidecar now is because his daddy is too ill to come with them… But as Sirius kickstarts the bike and they soar into the cool September air, the guilt quickly gives way to fluttery exhilaration and Harry whoops and laughs as they swerve in mid-air, setting the course for central London and then accelerating. 

 

As they leave the wizarding suburb of Elsrickle’s Hollow and enter the mixed area of Islington, Sirius touches down again and they drive the last few kilometres to King’s Cross on the road with the muggle vehicles — which isn’t nearly as much fun as flying, but still loads better than Apparating, Harry thinks. 

 

They run a yellow light and zoom round a bend to the chorus of angry honking and the large stone station comes into view… Harry feels a mix of excitement and dread; Soon, he’ll board the Hogwarts Express for the second time in his life and meet up with Draco and his other school friends, he’ll be on his way to his home away from home — Hogwarts — the most magnificent castle in all of wizarding Britain, where a spectacular welcoming feast awaits them in the Great Hall… And after he’s eaten so much treacle tart he’ll be bursting at the seams, he’ll crawl into his four-poster bed in the Slytherin dorms and be lulled to sleep by the soothing sound of water lapping at the windows… 

 

But, before any of that, he’ll have to say goodbye to his dad — something that always makes him feel awful — but what makes him feel even worse is that he won’t even get to say goodbye to his daddy…

 

The station clock tells them they have five minutes to get to platform nine and three quarters. Sirius parks the bike and helps Harry climb out of the sidecar, then steers him towards the entrance of the station firmly, saying there’s no time to get a trolley, ”Just leave the trunk as it is for now and then ask one of the older students or a teacher to unshrink it for you, alright?”

 

”Okay”, Harry says breathlessly as Sirius keeps pushing him to walk faster, until finally he’s running alongside him, clutching his hand desperately so as not to lose him in the late morning crowd. 

 

They zig-zag between suitcase-dragging muggles and jog down the escalator, pelting past platform nine with only two minutes to spare… Sirius pulls on Harry’s arm, propelling him in front of him and pushing him towards the hidden passageway to platform nine and three quarters…

 

_BAM!_

 

A sudden sharp pain explodes on Harry’s forehead and shoots into his skull as everything goes black —

 

” _Harry!_ ”

 

He blinks in confusion, the darkness slowly drifting away again… The pain has filled his whole head now, and his nose and forehead are throbbing… Suddenly Sirius face hovers above him, his brow creased with worry, ”Harry! _Merlin,_ are you all right?”

 

Harry cranes his neck and throws a furtive glance around him; he’s lying sprawled on the floor of platform nine…

 

”What…” he mumbles. ”What happened?”

 

”I don’t know”, Sirius hisses and looks around doggedly. ”I don’t know, Harry… Come on, the muggles are starting to stare, can you sit up?”

 

Harry nods, but quickly regrets it as it makes the pain in his head flare up again. Sirius gently grabs his arms and helps him to sit, watching him worriedly. 

 

”What’s going on here —?” a conductor says suspiciously as he approaches them. 

 

”Nothing, my boy tripped that’s all”, Sirius lies smoothly and hugs Harry closer. ”He’s a little uncoordinated, especially in the morning…”

 

”Jesus…” the muggle murmurs, peering at Harry’s bleeding nose. ”You alright there, son?”

 

”He’ll be fine”, Sirius says shortly, glancing at the nearest clock and swearing under his breath. ”It’s eleven. We’ve missed the train…”

 

”Where are you going? Maybe I can get them to delay their departure until you’re on board…” the conductor offers kindly. 

 

”That’s okay. Thank you”, Sirius says and helps Harry to his feet. ”Come on, runt… Let’s go take a look at that nose, eh?”

 

As soon as they’re back by the motorcycle, Sirius sits Harry down in the sidecar and, shielding him from view with his own body, he discretely mends his broken nose with a muttered spell before transfiguring an old gum wrapper into a tissue and handing it to Harry.

 

”What happened?” Harry says again. ”Why couldn’t we get through?”

 

”I don’t know…” Sirius murmurs. ”But don’t worry, we’ll send an owl to Hogwarts and let them know what happened.”

 

”But how am I going to get there, I’ve missed the train —!”

 

”Calm down”, Sirius says firmly. ”We’ll just have to fly, won’t we?”

 

”What, really?”

 

”We don’t have much choice, do we?” Sirius says with a playful grin. ”Here, take Hedwig’s cage…”

 

Sirius quickly scrawls a short note and ties it to Hedwig’s leg, before telling her to fly ahead. He then helps Harry with the helmet again, before mounting the motorcycle and kickstarting it once more. 

 

As soon they leave London and all its curious muggles behind, Sirius pulls the motorcycle off the ground again and they fly the rest of the way hidden above the clouds. 

 

With no-one to talk to and the gentle rocking of the bike lulling him to sleep, Harry dozes off for a while and when he wakes up, the sun has started to set. He straightens up and peers over the side of the sidecar, catching glimpses of green peeking out through holes in the blanket of golden clouds. 

 

”Almost there!” Sirius yells over the hum of the engine. 

 

They fly past Hogsmeade and straight to the castle grounds, touching down right next to the massive gates. Harry scrambles out of the sidecar, eager to stretch his legs and Sirius kills the engine but stays seated on the bike, glaring at the gates as he pulls off his leather gloves. Harry follows his line of sight curiously.

 

On the other side of the wrought iron gate, just below one of the winged boars, with his long black robes rippling in the breeze, stands Harry’s Head of House, Professor Snape. His sallow face, framed by greasy hair that hangs like a couple of heavy, black curtains, is contorted in a deep scowl as he glares back at Sirius. 

 

”Hello, Professor”, Harry calls out and smiles nervously when the man’s dark eyes flicker over to meet his instead.

 

The scowl on Professor Snape’s face softens slightly and leaves him looking less furious and more mildly annoyed, which Harry will take as a victory considering his first year at Hogwarts was riddled with rule-breaking and poor potion-brewing skills — not to mention the fact that he made no secret of his suspicion that Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone and bring Voldemort back to life…

 

”Po- _Harry_ ”, Snape mutters, then shoots another dark glare in Sirius direction. ”Black…”

 

”You got our message”, Sirius says and climbs off the bike. 

 

”Clearly”, Snape says. ”No need to accompany Harry to the school, Black. I’ll take it from here.”

 

Sirius ignores him and turns to Harry, squatting down in front of him with a smile. He reaches out to squeeze Harry’s shoulder, then pulls him in for a hug. 

 

”You be good this year, Harry” he mumbles, carding his fingers through the hair in the back of Harry’s neck. ”But have fun, as well…”

 

Harry chuckles, ”Yeah, promise… Tell daddy I — I said — you know —?”

 

”I will”, Sirius says and gives him one last squeeze before leaning back again. ”I’ll see you at Christmas, okay?”

 

Harry nods. 

 

When Sirius pulls the motorcycle off the ground, Harry slowly walks over to Professor Snape but doesn’t tear his eyes away from the steadily shrinking silhouette of the bike until it’s merely a tiny black dot on the horizon.

 

He turns to look at Professor Snape and finds the man watching him silently. There’s no scowl on his face anymore, merely an impassive mask and the slightest hint of a thoughtful frown. Harry gives him a pinched smile and is just about to ask him about his summer, when the man swiftly turns away and starts walking up the path towards the castle. 

 

Harry hurries to keep up with him and nearly stumbles over twice, but the professor doesn’t even give him a sideways glance to see if he’s alright, just keeps walking briskly. 

 

When they finally reach the castle, Professor Snape slows down and, with a flick of his wrist, his wand slips from his sleeve and into his hand. He gestures for Harry to put the shrunken trunk down on the ground and then unshrinks it for him. 

 

”Leave it here, the house elves will take it to your dorm.”

 

Professor Snape opens the large oak doors with another flick of his wand and lets Harry step through first. 

 

”This way”, he says when Harry turns to walk towards the Great Hall and tilts his head towards the dungeons. ”The feast is not for another hour… I’ll give you the new password, so you can wait in your Common Room.”

 

”Okay…”

 

The walk to the dungeons is just as tense as the walk from the gates and Harry wonders whether he should apologise to the professor for suspecting him of consorting with Voldemort last year, or if he should just pretend like nothing is wrong until it feels like nothing actually is. But before he’s had a chance to make his mind up, they reach the hidden entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

 

”Salazar”, Professor Snape tells the paving stone between the last two torches and immediately the wall begins to rearrange itself until a doorway has been created, and Severus gestures for Harry to enter first. 

 

The narrow passageway opens up into a circular room decorated in green and silver, lit by a roaring fire and several torches lining the walls. Harry feels surge of happiness at the familiar sight. His home away from home. 

 

”Well…” Professor Snape says and shifts his weight a little awkwardly, before turning back to the door. ”I’ll leave you to… Yes. I’ll see you at the feast —”

 

”Wait —!” Harry exclaims. 

 

The professor pauses in the doorway and throws him a questioning look over his shoulder. Harry feels his face flush and quickly looks down. 

 

”Do you… Ehm… Would you… Want to play Exploding Snap?” he mumbles. ”Please, Professor?”

 

”Absolutely not”, Snape huffs. 

 

”Oh… O-Okay, then…” 

 

There is a moment of awkward silence when Harry avoids Professor Snape’s eyes and the older man shifts his weight a few times and sighs. 

 

”I will play chess with you.”

 

Harry’s head shoots up in surprise and he stares at the older man hopefully. Professor Snape scowls back, but then strides into the room and takes a seat in front of the fire. 

 

”You can be white”, he mutters as he sets up the chess board. 

 

”Okay!” Harry exclaims happily and hurries over. 

 

It comes as no surprise that Professor Snape is good at chess, but when he’s got Harry in check mate after only three moves, when Harry is still working out his strategy, it starts to dawn on Harry that he might very well be the best chess player he’s ever met, better than both Ron and Draco combined… They keep playing though, and after the first two games, the professor starts giving Harry pointers and they actually end up having a good time together. So much so that, when the hour has passed and it’s time to go to the feast, Harry feels like they’ve only just got started and he’s actually reluctant to stop playing. 

 

”Thanks for teaching me”, Harry says with a smile when Professor Snape puts the chess board away. 

 

”It was my pleasure”, Snape murmurs. 

 

”Really?” Harry says in surprise. 

 

”Indeed. I was _very pleased_ to discover that you _can_ be taught…”

 

Harry trails after Professor Snape as they exit the dungeons and cross the Entrance Hall. Unlike before, the doors to the Great Hall are now wide open and from inside an excited ruckus can be heard from the student body. Snape pauses in the doorway to let Harry enter first and Harry quickly scans the Slytherin table until he catches a glimpse of white-blonde hair. He beams and runs over to where Draco is sitting and squeezes in between him and Seamus. 

 

” _There_ you are!” Draco gasps. ”Where have you _been_? I was worried sick —!”

 

”I’ll tell you later”, Harry whispers as the Sorting is about to start. ”But I’m fine.”

 

They watch the Sorting Ceremony in silence and applaud every time a new student gets sorted into Slytherin. Headmaster Dumbledore stands up at the podium and makes one of his odd little speeches, and then the feast materialises on the tables in front of them. 

 

Harry hadn’t even been aware of how hungry he was until the smell of food suddenly hits him and his stomach clenches. 

 

Draco, in his usual fashion, selects only a few dishes and scatters the bite-sized bits around his plate, making sure the leave plenty of space between the different foods before he starts to pick his way through it all and taking sips of water grapejuice between every bite. Harry frowns a little, watching him, but knows better than to comment in front of everyone else. 

 

He doesn’t get a chance to tell Draco about the barrier in King’s Cross until they’re both nestled into their respective beds, watching each other through the gloom. 

 

”Clearly someone doesn’t want me here this year…”

 

”I can’t believe you got to play chess with Professor Snape, I’m so jealous…”

 

*

 

When they enter the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, the enchanted ceiling is a dull, cloudy grey above their heads and the elation of the night before seems to have petered out during the night because everyone’s sleep-swollen eyes are fixed unseeingly on their porridge and eggs and at least no-one at the Slytherin table is talking much. There is a bit of chatting going on over at the Gryffindor table and a few of the professors seem to be conversing as well, but overall the Great Hall is unusually quiet. 

 

Harry is slumped over his porridge, eyes still drooping with sleep, when Professor Snape strides down the length of the table to hand out everyone’s timetables and he doesn’t notice when the man stops next to him until Draco elbows him in the side. 

 

”Sorry, Sir…” Harry mumbles and takes the timetable from Professor Snape, who doesn’t say anything in response, just continues down the table. 

 

”Here, have some coffee…” Draco offers and slides the coffee carafe over to him.

 

”I don’t drink coffee”, Harry mumbles. 

 

But he takes the carafe and pours himself a cup anyway, thinking it can’t really hurt to try. He takes a cautious sip and nearly gags. Draco, Seamus and Blaise laugh at him. 

 

”You’ll get used to it”, Blaise says. 

 

”I don’t want to get used to it”, Harry grumbles stubbornly but takes another sip anyway, because despite the rank taste, that one little sip he took seemed to have shaken all residual sleep from his system and he feels positively invigorated. And after the fourth sip, he doesn’t even mind the taste all that much either. 

 

Draco gives him a knowing look and smirks fondly, but Harry just sticks his tongue out at him. Glancing down at the timetable for the first time, Harry notices they’ve got double Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws first and he’s suddenly extremely happy that Draco suggested he try coffee, because if there is one class in which you need your wits about you, besides Potion, it’s Transfiguration with the stern Professor McGonagall. 

 

Harry suddenly becomes aware that he’s being watched and looks up. A very small, mousy-haired boy is standing at his elbow staring as though transfixed and clutching a camera. As soon as Harry locks eyes with him, the boy goes bright red and he starts to stammer. 

 

”Alright Harry? I’m — I’m Colin Creevy, I’m in Gryffindor and I just wanted to s-say — well — I really admire you and — ehm — d’you think — would it be all right if — can I have a p-picture?”

 

”A picture?” Harry repeats blankly, staring at the camera as the boy — Colin Creevy — raises it hopefully. 

 

”So I can prove I’ve met you”, Colin says eagerly, edging a small step closer. ”You see, I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightening scar on your forehead —” his eyes rakes Harry’s hairline and Harry barely resists the urge to flatten his fringe. ”— and a boy in my dormitory said that if I develop the film in the right potion, they pictures’ll _move_!”

 

Harry frowns in confusion. _Why_ wouldn’t _the pictures move?_

 

But then he realises, this boy must be muggle-born. And almost as soon as this thought has occurred to him, Colin confirms it by telling him all about receiving the letter from Hogwarts which explained all of the odd stuff that he could do and how he could barely believe it and neither could his dad who was a Milk-Man — _whatever that is,_ Harry thinks.

 

”So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him”, Colin continues eagerly. ”And it’d be really good if I had one of you — maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you even? — oh, and then — would you sign it —?”

 

”Sign it”, Harry repeats incredulously. ”You want a signed photo —?”

 

”What’s all this? What’s all this?” 

 

Harry whips his head around and nearly groans as he sees Gilderoy Lockhart striding towards them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him and his teeth gleaming. 

 

”Who’s giving out signed photographs?”

 

”No-one —!” Harry says hurriedly. 

 

But it’s too late; Lockhart has already descended on him and flung his arm around his shoulders and squeezed him uncomfortably close.

 

”Shouldn’t have asked”, Lockhart says jovially. ”We meet again, Harry!”

 

Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Harry throws Draco a desperate look but the blonde is biting his lip, trying not to laugh. 

 

”Come on then, Mr Creevy”, Lockhart says and beams at Colin. ”A double portrait, can’t say fairer than that, and then we’ll _both_ sign it for you! What do you say?”

 

Colin fumbles with his camera for a moment and Harry can feel pearls of sweat breaking out on his face. Finally the boy manages to take a picture, the flash going off and nearly blinding Harry who flinches. Lockhart finally releases him, but instead of walking away as Harry would have hoped, he takes a seat next to him.

 

”Harry, Harry, Harry”, he says, shaking his head. ”Gave you a taste for publicity, didn’t I? Gave you the _bug_. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and now you’ve had a first taste, you want more… Harry, Harry, Harry…”

 

”Oh — no, Professor, see —” Harry tries to explain, but Lockhart just keeps shaking his head and grinning like a madman. 

 

” _I understand._ It’s only natural. But…” he leans in to murmur conspiratorially, ”A word to the wise, Harry… You need to calm down a bit, all right? Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking, ’It’s alright for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!’ but _Harry_ … when I was twelve I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He Who Must Not Be Named — I know, I know, it’s not quite as good as winning _Witch Weekly’s_ Most-Charming-Smile-Award five times in a row, as I have, bit it’s a _start_ , Harry. It’s a _start_ … But, you mustn’t let it get to your head. I covered up for you there with young Mr Creevy, you see if he was photographing me, too, your schoolfellows won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much… But let me just say that handing out signed photographs at this stage in your career isn’t very sensible. It’s looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll have to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but —” he gives a little chortle, ”I don’t think you’re _quite_ there yet, my boy.”

 

With a final pat on Harry’s shoulder and a gleaming grin, Lockhart jumps up and strides out of the Great Hall. Harry blinks stupidly, his jaws working silently. He turns to his friends and they all burst out sniggering. 

 

”Your face!” Seamus exclaims, pointing at Harry. 

 

Harry scowls and swats the offending finger away, but his friends continue to giggle and snicker and after a while, as the absurdity of the situation starts to sink in, Harry joins in as well. 

 

”Oh I wish that Creepy kid had taken a picture of that…” Draco says breathlessly, wiping a tear from his eye. 

 

”His name’s _Creevy._ Be nice”, Harry says.

 

”What do I care what his name is, he _is_ creepy”, Draco retorts.

 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the last Harry would see of Gilderoy Lockhart — not even the last he would see of him _this morning_ , since the lesson just before lunch is in fact double Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors — and he makes sure to grab a seat at the very back of the classroom, hoping to hide as much as possible without skiving off the lesson altogether, so that Lockhart won’t embarrass him further in front of everyone. 

 

He needn’t have worried however, because it soon becomes clear that Lockhart is too wrapped up in himself to really notice anyone else. In fact, the very first thing they get to do is sit a 54-question test with questions like ”What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?” or ”When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday and what would be his ideal birthday present?”

 

”Is this for real?” Draco hisses. 

 

Harry just shakes his head. 

 

Not surprisingly, no-one except Hermione Granger does very well on the test, something Lockhart is quick to point out, having gone through them all immediately while they all waited. 

 

”Unbelievable”, Draco mutters when Lockhart praises Granger for getting full marks. 

 

”Excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so, to business…” he bends down and picks up a large cage covered with a baby blue silk scarf. ”Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind… You may very well find yourself facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here — all I ask is that you remain calm…”

 

Harry and Draco exchange a wary look, then crane their necks to get a better look of the cage. A tense hush has descended in the classroom. Neville Longbottom has slid as far down in his front row seat as he can get without actually falling off and even Hermione Granger is cowering behind her massive pile of books. 

 

”I must ask you not to scream…” Lockhart murmurs in a dramatically low voice and grips the scarf. ”It might provoke them…”

 

The whole class holds its breath as one and Harry finds himself unconsciously leaning forward in his seat. Lockhart whips the scarf off the cage, revealing a swarm of electric blue —

 

”Yes — _freshly caught Cornish pixies_!”

 

There is a whoosh as the class collectively breathes out again and Seamus lets out a snort of laughter loud enough to be heard over the sudden high-pitched jabbering of the pixies and Lockhart’s grin falters slightly as he turns to Seamus with a questioning look. 

 

”Yes?”

 

”Well, they’re not — they’re not very — _dangerous_ , are they?” Seamus chokes out while trying to keep his laughter in.

 

”Don’t be so sure!” Lockhart says dramatically and wags his finger at the sniggering Slytherin. ”Devilish tricky little blighters they can be! Right then… Let’s see what you make of them!”

 

Without further ado, Lockhart opens the cage and within seconds chaos has erupted in the classroom. The pixies zip and zoom in every direction, causing mayhem all around them, tearing up books and chucking ink bottles at the students who scream and throw themselves under the desks for cover. Two pixies manage to grab Neville Longbottom by his ears before he’s had a chance to duck down and lift him into the air and hang him up in the candelabra like some great big swinging ornament. 

 

”Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies…” Lockhart yells tauntingly, and then with a patronising grin he rolls up his sleeves and brandishes his wand. ” _Peskipiksi Pesternomi_ —!”

 

Whatever the spell was meant to accomplish, it doesn’t appear to have worked because the pixies continue wrecking the classroom without so much as a hesitation in their momentum and one of them actually shoot down and grabs Lockhart’s wand straight out of his hand and hurls it out the window. 

 

Lockhart’s grin disappears completely as he gulps and dives under his desk and Harry realises it’s the first time he’s ever seen the man and not been able to count all his teeth. 

 

The candelabra finally gives way and Longbottom crashes to the floor with a sickening _crunch,_ his groan drowned by the bell and the hurried footsteps of stampeding students trying to escape the classroom all at once. Harry hesitates, looking over at the heap that is the broken candelabra and (possibly also broken) Neville Longbottom, wondering if he should go over and make sure the boy is okay… However, Draco is pulling on his sleeve insistently and anyway, it looks like Ron and Granger are checking on Longbottom, so Harry follows Draco out of the classroom. 

 

Just as they’re out of the door, they can hear Lockhart asking the Gryffindors to nip the rest of the pixies back into their cage and in the next moment, the professor comes striding out of the classroom and quickly slams the door behind him. Harry gives him an incredulous look that he promptly ignores in favour of running away down the corridor. 

 

”Should we help —?”

 

”No”, Draco snaps. ”It’s not our responsibility! We’re going to lunch!”

 

Over the next few days, Harry spent a lot of time and energy on avoiding Professor Lockhart and became quite adapt at dodging out of sight at the slightest hint of blue in his peripheral. 

 

The Gryffindor first-year Colin Creevy however is a lot harder to avoid for some reason, mainly because he’s so small Harry doesn’t see him coming until it’s too late and also, he suspects, because the boy has somehow got a hold of Harry’s timetable and memorised it. Nothing, it would seem, gives the young Gryffindor a bigger thrill than to say, ’All right, Harry?’ six or seven times a day and hear, ’Hello, Colin’ back, however exasperated Harry sounds when he says it. 

 

”It’s your own fault”, Draco says. ”You encourage him.”

 

”I do _not_!”

 

”Yes, you do. Stop saying ’hello’ and he’ll stop stalking you.”

 

”I can’t just _ignore_ him…” Harry mutters. 

 

”You can tell him to bugger off —”

 

” _Draco_!”

 

”I’m just saying — your own fault!”

 

”He means well”, Harry grumbles uncomfortably. ”It’s a little annoying, that’s all.”

 

”A little?” Draco scoffs. ”You’re too nice.”

 

”I am not, I don’t smile at him or anything —”

 

”He’s not even a Slytherin —”

 

”I don’t even _look at him_ half the time —!”

 

”Just wait and see, one of these nights you’re going to wake up and he’ll be sitting at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep —”

 

”Stop it!”

 

”— touching himself —”

 

”Merlin’s pants!” Harry exclaims with a laugh despite himself. ”That’s just sick!”

 

”Well, he’s creepy!” Draco insists, but his lips twitch.

 

”He’s really not”, Harry says. ”He’s just a kid.”

 

”Oh, yeah, like that innocent act is fooling anyone… _Oh gosh, Harry, you’re just the awesomest person in the whole wide world, please please please can I take a picture of you_ ”, Draco exclaims suddenly in a high-pitched voice whilst skipping alongside Harry with his eyes open wide and hands clasped in front of his chest, making Harry laugh harder. ” _You know I heard there’s a special magical potion that will make the picture_ move _, can you believe it? Maybe if your friend could take the picture, I can be in it too, and maybe then the you and me in the picture might do what I have wet dreams about every night —_ ”

 

”Stop it!” Harry gasps. 

 

”Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Draco says in his normal voice, smirking. 

 

”Whatever”, Harry mumbles and gives the blonde a playful shove. 

 

They walk in silence for a moment, but Draco obviously isn't done having fun because he soon resumes his Colin Creevy impersonation. Harry just laughs and shakes his head. Suddenly, he hears something though... Another voice under Draco's high-pitched, mocking one... An icy, venomous one that sends a chill down his spine...

 

" _Come... Come to me... Let me rip you..._ "

 

Harry gasps and pulls up short, listening intently. Draco continues a few steps before he realises that Harry's stopped walking and twirls around to look at him.

 

"... _Let me tear you..._ "

 

"Harry? What —?"

 

"... _Let me kill you.._."

 

"What?" Harry says loudly.

 

"What", Draco repeats in alarm. 

 

"That voice!" Harry says frantically. "That voice that said — didn't you hear it?"

 

"What are you talking about?" Draco says, frowning warily. "If you're trying to scare me so I'll stop —"

 

"You really didn't hear anything?" Harry demands, thinking the blonde had better not be messing with him... But Draco just stares at him, wide-eyed and thin-lipped, and with a sinking feeling Harry realises that Draco isn't just telling the truth, he is also scared. Harry has scared him... By talking about hearing voices... Except he can't hear it anymore. _Maybe it was all in my head._..

 

"Never mind", he mumbles and starts walking again. 

 

Draco seems more than happy to forget the whole thing, but keeps shooting Harry wary glances and he doesn't do any more impersonations. In fact, he stays unusually quiet all throughout dinner and Harry is beginning to feel right foolish... Until he hears it again.

 

Having lost his appetite he finishes dinner in record time, so as soon as Draco stops picking his way through his own bite size portion, they leave the Great Hall again and as they're making their way towards the dungeons when the ice cold, hissing voice slithers into the tense silence again, " _Soo hungry... For so long…_ "

 

Harry stumbles to a halt and clutching at the stone wall, he listens intensely while squinting up and down the dimly lit corridor looking for any movement, any hint at all of whomever the terrible voice belongs to.

 

"Harry... What..."

 

”Listen!"

 

" _Rip... Tear... Kill..._ "

 

Harry feels his blood run cold as the words register. He whips his head around to look at Draco and sees his own terror mirrored on the blonde’s face.

 

" _Kill... Time to kill…_ " the voice hisses, but it’s growing fainter, moving away… Harry can barely hear it over the pounding of his own heart… but it’s definitely moving — _moving upwards_ , Harry realises and stares up at the dark ceiling, _but how can it be moving upwards? Is it a ghost or phantom or something?_

 

”This way”, he shouts and starts to run back towards the staircase leading up to the Entrance Hall. 

 

Draco clatters behind him as he sprints up the marble steps, gasping at him to _slow down_ and _wait_ , but Harry can’t, or he’ll lose track of the thing… When they get back into the Entrance Hall, the noise that spills out of the Great Hall where the Hallowe’en feast is still going on, make sit impossible to hear anything else, so Harry continues up to the first floor. 

 

”Harry, what are we —?”

 

”SHH!” 

 

Harry stumbles to a stop on the first floor landing and holds his breath as he listens… Distantly, from the floor above and steadily growing fainter, he can still hear the voice, ” _I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD_!”

 

Harry’s stomach lurches and his blood drains from his face… _Blood_ … He starts running again, taking the stairs three at a time now. Draco yells something at him, but he doesn’t care — _the thing is going to kill someone!_ — he hurtles around the whole of the second floor, trying to strain his ears and listen for the voice over the pounding of his and Draco’s footsteps and their panting breaths. 

 

Finally, he turns the last corner and stumbles to a stop in a deserted passage. There is no-one there. 

 

”Harry! What the _Hell_ —?” Draco gasps as he thunders to a stop right next to him. ”I couldn’t hear anything —!”

 

 _There_ — Suddenly Harry sees something, something shining on the far wall… He hushes Draco again and approaches the wall slowly, squinting through the darkness, he can finally make out the foot-long words that have been daubed on the wall… 

 

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED; 

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

 

The choked gasp behind Harry tells him that Draco has seen the message as well and when the other boy inches closer to him, Harry curls his arm around his waist and pulls him against his side gently. 

 

”Is that b-blood?” Draco whispers. 

 

”Yeah, I think so…”

 

”What’s t-that underneath?”

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the blood red words and squints at the dark shadow beneath them… Despite Draco grabbing his arm tightly enough to leave bruises and hissing at him to _get out of here_ , Harry cautiously edges closer to the wall — but when he realises what the shadow is, he immediately leaps back again, nearly slipping in a puddle of water on the floor and falling over — hanging by her tail from one of the torch’s bracket, is Mrs Norris, caretaker Filch’s cat and deputy, her yellow eyes wide and staring, her body stiff…

 

”Harry, _please_ … Can we get out of here now?”

 

”Ehm, y-yeah, but… Shouldn’t we try and help —?” Harry says uncomfortably, still staring at the unseeing eyes of Mrs Norris. 

 

”There’s nothing we can do to help!” Draco hisses. ” _Come on,_ we don’t want anyone to find us here, trust me —”

 

Harry nods in agreement, but it’s too late; from either side of the corridor they can suddenly hear the rumble of footsteps and the low murmur of all the other students now making their way from the Great Hall to their dormitories, and in the next moment, hundreds of students come crashing into the passage from both ends… The noise of chatter and bustle dies suddenly, as the students stare between the hanging cat, the bloody message on the wall and the two Slytherin boys…

 

”What’s going on here? Make way! Make wa—”

 

Argus Filch, the caretaker, comes shouldering his way through the crowd, but stops dead in his tracks and gapes in horror when he sees Mrs Norris. 

 

”My cat! My cat!” he shrieks, clutching his jowls and then his popping eyes swivels round and fall on Harry, who is still hovering uncertainly between Draco and the cat. ”You! _You!_ You’ve murdered my cat! _You’ve killed her_ — I’ll kill you! I’LL KILL—!”

 

” _Argus_!” 

 

Albus Dumbledore has arrived on the scene, flanked by the rest of the school’s teachers, and his breathy voice cuts the caretaker off sharply, causing the man to fall back once more just as he’s made a lunge for Harry. 

 

Without another word, the Headmaster sweeps past them all and unties the thin rope binding Mrs Norris’s tail to the torch bracket and then gently cradles the stiff body in his hands as if mindful not to cause it any harm or distress, which Harry finds rather curious considering the cat is very obviously dead, but sneaking a peek at Filch’s tear-streaked, quivering face he knows he would have done the same. 

 

”Come with me, Argus”, Dumbledore says quietly. ”You too, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy…”

 

Lockhart steps forward eagerly, his teeth gleaming in the dim light from the torches, ”My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —”

 

”Thank you, Gildreroy”, Dumbledore says. 

 

The crowd parts to let the man pass and Lockhart, puffing his chest up importantly and grinning with excitement, hurries after him, gesturing as if to inform the older man of the way, as if Dumbledore hasn’t lived in Hogwarts for the the last fifty years at least… 

 

Professor Snape swoops down on Harry and Draco, his billowing robes seeming even more dramatic than usual with the bloody backdrop and both boys cringe instinctively. Harry peers up into the man’s face and it looks even more shuttered than usual, but there’s a glint in eyes that make Harry’s chest clench in fear. He swallows thickly, then opens his mouth to speak… But he can’t find his voice… _And if I could, what would I say?_

 

Snape just jerks his head, silently urging them to follow the Headmaster and both boys hurry to comply.

 

As they enter Lockhart’s office, there is a flurry of movement all around the room as inhabitants of Lockhart’s many portraits of himself leap out of sight but he manages to catch one with his hair in rollers and face smeared with some sort of ghostly white facemask. If the circumstances had been different, and Professor Dumbledore wasn’t putting Mrs Norris’s stiff body down on the desk and her owner Mr Filch wasn’t slumped over in a chair, sobbing desperately, Harry might have struggled not to laugh. As it is, it’s not a laugh obstructing his throat but a massive lump that he swallows convulsively around to try and dislodge, but no matter how hard he swallows, the lump keeps growing bigger. 

 

Dumbledore is leaned over the desk, his crooked nose mere inches from Mrs Norris’s fur as he studies her through his half-moon spectacles, ignoring Lockhart as the man hovers at his shoulder giving suggestions, ”It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture, I’ve seen it used many times before, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know just the counter-curse that would have saved her…”

 

Filch’s sobbing increases and he clutches his face in despair. 

 

Harry glances over at Snape where he is looming behind the two other professors, half in shadow and face just as unreadable as before. For a second, the man’s black eyes flickers up to meet Harry’s own, and Harry’s heartbeat stutters in his chest… 

 

Dumbledore starts muttering strange words under his breath and taps Mrs Norris with his wand, but nothing happens… 

 

”— I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou”, Lockhart continues breezily. ”A series of attacks, in fact — the full story’s in my autobiography — I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets which cleared the matter up at once —”

 

Dumbledore straightens up finally and, continuing to ignore Lockhart, he turns to look at Filch instead, ”She is not dead, Argus.”

 

Lockhart stops his long rant immediately, and Filch’s breath hitches as he wrenches his face out of his hands and stares up at the Headmaster. 

 

”N-Not d-dead?” he chokes. 

 

”No”, Dumbledore says softly. ”She has been Petrified —”

 

”Ah, I thought so!” Lockhart says.

 

”—But how”, Dumbledore continues. ”I cannot say.”

 

”Ask _him_!” Filch wails and points a shaking finger at Harry. ”It’s him that’s done it!”

 

”No Second-year could have done this”, Dumbledore says calmly. ”It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced —”

 

”He did it!” Filch spits, his blotched face darkening furiously. ”You saw what he wrote on the wall —!”

 

”I never _touched_ Mrs Norris!” Harry exclaims, his voice finally breaking out of the confines of his own closed throat. 

 

”Rubbish!” Filch snarls. ”Why else were you there and not at the feast —?”

 

”Because — because — we _were_ at the feast, but we weren’t very hungry and we were t-tired so we decided t-to go to bed early —”

 

Harry knows his mistake as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but it’s too late. Filch’s pouchy face quivers as he grins in triumph, ” _Aha_! So why were you in an _upstairs_ corridor —!”

 

Harry glances over at Snape quickly. The man’s eyes glitter dangerously, but his face remains impassive. 

 

”—if you were heading to the dungeons —?”

 

”B-Because — because we —” but Harry has no idea what to say, his heart is thumping madly in his chest and his mind is whirring, he just knows that telling them all that he’d lead Draco up three flights of stairs because he’d been in pursuit of a bodiless voice, it would not help his case at all. 

 

”You lying little toad —!” Filch snarls, grinning triumphantly now. 

 

”We got lost”, Draco pipes up suddenly, his deathly pale face regaining a hint of colour as every eye in the room, including those of the curious portraits, swivel round to stare at him incredulously and Harry bites down on his lip to suffocate a groan. 

 

” _Hah_!” Filch spits. 

 

Professor Dumbledore’s pale blue eyes flicker from Draco to Harry and for a terrifying moment, Harry is sure the old man can see right through him, right into his very core and read his mind… But then the man’s eyes flicker away again and come to rest on Filch instead, ”Innocent until proven guilty, Argus…”

 

”My cat has been Petrified!” the caretaker exclaims shrilly, jumping to his feet. ”I want to see some _punishment_!”

 

”We will be able to cure her”, Dumbledore says calmly. ”Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes that she has been nurturing with the help of the Second-years, and as soon as they’ve reached their full size, we will be able to brew a potion that will revive Mrs Norris…”

 

”I’ll make it”, Lockhart says. ”I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —”

 

”Excuse me”, Snape speaks up for the first time, his voice as icy as the glare he sends Lockhart’s way. ”But I believe I am the Potions master at this school.”

 

There is a very awkward pause. Lockhart looks genuine confused as to why anyone would ever turn down his offer of help, and the others glance uncomfortably between him and Snape’s darkening look, collectively holding their breaths as if waiting for an explosion. 

 

”You may go”, Dumbledore tells Harry and Draco, and they quickly scurry out of the office as fast as they can without actually running. 

 

As soon as they reach the dungeons, they slow down their pace. 

 

”Do you think I should have told them?” Harry murmurs. ”Professor Dumbledore and Snape, about the voice —?”

 

”No”, Draco says immediately. ”Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t exactly a good sign…”

 

”You believe me, don’t you?”

 

They both amble to a stop outside the hidden doorway to the Slytherin Common Room. Draco avoids Harry’s eyes, but nods. 

 

”I know it’s weird”, Harry says. 

 

”Yeah”, Draco mumbles. 

 

”But, I mean, the whole thing is weird. What was that writing on the wall about? _The Chamber has been opened_ … What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

” _The Chamber of Secrets_ ”, Draco says quietly. ”I’ve heard about it before.”

 

”You have?”

 

”Yeah… My father told me… It’s just a legend though, it’s not actually… I mean… I didn’t think it was actually… _Real_ … Anyway — Come on, it’s almost midnight, we should get to bed before Professor Snape gets back —”

 

The blonde brushes past Harry and turns to whisper the new password (Serpensortia) to the wall, that immediately rearranges itself into a doorway to let them enter. 

 

Once they’re safely in the second-year boys’ dormitory, Harry tries to question his friend about this legend of the Chamber of Secrets, but the boy is very elusive and quickly disappears behind the hangings of his bed, claiming he’s exhausted and wants to go to bed. 

 

Harry curls up in his own bed, feeling strangely hollow and heavy at the same time. He presses his eyes shut, but it’s at least an hour before sleep finally takes him.

 

*

 

In the next few days, the attack on Mrs Norris is the sole topic of conversation at the school, mainly because Mr Filch won’t let anyone forget about it. He keeps stalking up and down the corridor where the attack happened as if expecting the culprit to return to the scene of the crime, where the bloody message is still gleaming fresh on the wall despite the caretaker’s best efforts to scrub the blood off with ’Mrs Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover’, and when he isn’t guarding the spot, he’s skulking through the other corridors of the school, descending on unsuspecting students like some twitching vulture, trying to give them detention for such crimes as _”breathing loudly”_ or _”looking happy”_ …

 

Harry has taken to avoiding the rest of the castle as much as possible, keeping to the dungeons or the courtyard outside whenever he wasn’t in class or having meals in the Great Hall, because wherever he goes, people seem to stare and whisper, and although that’s something he’s become quite used to by now, there’s a slight difference to the looks and whispers now… Before, it was always looks of admiration or curiosity, and the whispers were either excited or awe-struck, but now… Well, let’s just say Harry didn’t exactly feel like a hero anymore…

 

To his immense relief, Draco is stubbornly stuck to his side despite all of this, but at the same time Harry is uncomfortably aware that even the blonde is acting  differently around him now. It’s a subtle difference, and when Harry looks directly at the other boy or talk to him, he can’t tell at all; but whenever Draco thinks Harry isn’t looking, he keeps shooting him worried looks and there’s a tension to his shoulders that’s not there normally, like he’s ready to bolt at the slightest noise… Harry would confront his best friend about it, if he wasn’t so scared the boy would take the opportunity to abandon him once and for all, if only Harry gave him an excuse…

 

”I need to go to the library”, Draco mumbles suddenly and gets up from the bench where they’re sitting, compiling their homework essays on ’The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards’ for History of Magic, and raises an eyebrow expectantly when Harry remains seated.

 

”Why?” Harry croaks, feeling his heart start thudding away in his chest. 

 

”There’s a book… I need…” Draco says awkwardly, then sighs in frustration. ”Harry it’s _freezing_! I can’t feel my fingers, they’re so numb, I can’t finish writing my essay if I can’t even hold the bloody quill —!”

 

”… _Oh_ ”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”Just… _Please,_ let’s just go inside?” Please?”

 

”You go. I’ll catch up with you lat—”

 

”Oh, come on, you’re being ridiculous!”

 

”Draco…”

 

” _Fine_!” 

 

The blonde huffs dramatically, then twirls around and stalks off across the courtyard. _Way to go_ , Harry tells himself bitterly. _Now you’re completely alone!_

 

He sighs and tilts his head back, staring up at the blanket of grey clouds and breathing in chilly autumn air, feeling it cling to his face like dew on his skin. Taking a deep breath, he tilts his head down again — catching sight of Ron walking up towards the castle from the greenhouses, accompanied by Granger and a Hufflepuff boy whose name Harry doesn’t remember — the redhead’s eyes meet his suddenly and when he lights up, Harry feels slightly better again. He smiles back and lifts his hand in greeting. 

 

Granger and the Hufflepuff boy both turn to look at him as well when Ron waves back. Granger gives Harry small smile as well, but the Hufflepuff boy stops dead in his tracks and stares back like he’s just seen a troll, then turns and speeds off towards the nearest entrance to the castle. Harry feels his slightly elevated mood sink abruptly again. Like a boulder in the lake. 

 

Ron and Granger exchange a look, then continue to cross the courtyard until they’re standing right in front of Harry, who suddenly wishes they’d just followed their Hufflepuff friend inside the castle and left him alone. 

 

”Hiya, Harry”, Ron says awkwardly. 

 

”Hi Ron… Granger…”

 

”Hi Harry”, the girl mumbles and looks down, fidgeting uncomfortably for a moment then taking a deep breath she smiles brightly at him, then Ron, ”Well, I need to go to the library. I’ll see you later in the common room, Ron. Harry, I’ll see you in class, I expect. Have a good evening.”

 

”Yeah, you too”, Harry mutters. 

 

As soon as the girl has walked away, Ron sighs and sinks down on the bench next to Harry, giving him a pinched smile that borders on apologetic.

 

”Don’t worry about her, or Justin, they’re just a bit… You know…”

 

”Justin?”

 

”Yeah, Justin Finch-Fletchly”, Ron says, gesturing vaguely towards the castle. ”He’s a bit of a pompous idiot, anyway… Kinda reminds me of Percy… Except, you know, he’s not my brother so I don’t need to like him at all.”

 

”So why were you walking with him?”

 

”He just sort of latched onto us, we just had double Herbology together… Nightmare, by the way, those Mandrakes are a bloody nuisance!”

 

”Yeah, I’m not a big fan either…”

 

”So, where’s…?”

 

”Who?”

 

”Malfoy.”

 

”Oh. He had to go to the library… As well… Seems like it’s the place to be these days… Anyway, how are you? How’s your sister getting on?”

 

”Oh, you know, she’s fine. Well, except for everything that’s happened. She was really broken up about Mrs Norris, even though I told her, we’re all much better off without her, but you know… Ginny loves cats so… I told her not to worry, that the nutter who did will get caught and be out of here in no time!” 

 

Ron seems to catch himself and shoots Harry a worried look, and his face goes tomato red. Harry gives him a wry smile, ”I hope you’re right!”

 

”Hermione and I believe you didn’t have anything to do with it”, Ron says seriously. 

 

”Thanks… How’s your History of Magic essay coming along?”

 

Ron groans, ”Oh right, I completely forgot about that! Guess I have to go find Hermione… Not that she’ll write it for me, or anything! Just… She usually gives me some pointers and — anyway — I’ll see you around, Harry…”

 

”Actually, I’ll come with you”, Harry says and gathers up his books. ”I said I’d meet Draco in the library so…”

 

When they reach the library however, Draco is nowhere to be found. Hermione however comes striding out from behind a bookshelf, her hair bigger and frizzier than ever, and she huffs in annoyance, ” _All_ the copies have been taken out!”

 

”Shh!” Madam Pince hisses from the Magical Beasts Section. 

 

”All the copies of what?” Ron asks quietly. 

 

” _Hogwarts: A History_ ”, Hermione says, collapsing in the seat next to Ron, who has taken out his History of Magic essay and a tape measure and is measuring it with a scowl. ”I had to leave my own copy at home, I couldn’t fit it in the trunk with all of Lockharts books, but now I wish I’d brought it —”

 

”I don’t believe it”, Ron growls and lets go of the parchment so that it spring back into a roll. ”I sat up for hours writing this and I’m still eight inches short!”

 

”—I could have carried it”, Hermione says mournfully and completely ignoring Ron who unrolls the parchment again and starts scribbling furiously, in nice big letters. ”There’s a _two week waiting list_ to get one of the library’s copies!”

 

”Why do you want it?” Harry says, frowning as he too sits down at the table, reaching out to borrow Ron’s tape measure, he quickly double-checks that his own homework essay is three foot, as assigned by Professor Binns and is relieved to find that it is, with an extra inch even. 

 

”Same reason everyone else wants it — to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets!”

 

” _Shhh_!”

 

”I know I’ve read about it somewhere, I just can’t remember, and I’ve looked in _all_ my other books and it’s not there —!”

 

”Hermione, let me read your —” Ron says, desperately checking his watch. 

 

”No, I won’t!” Hermione says sharply. ”You’ve had ten days to finish it!”

 

”SHHH!”

 

"I only need another two inches, go on…”

 

”I’ll see you guys in class”, Harry says hurriedly as the two Gryffindors begin to bicker and he slips out of the library just as the bell rings. 

 

Harry quickly scans the History of Magic classroom and is relieved to find Draco already at their usual table in the front row. He makes his way ove and quickly slumps down in the seat next to him, trying to make himself as invisible to the other students as possible, uncomfortably aware of the Gryffindors stares from the other side of the classroom. 

 

Ron and Granger’s hushed but heated argument announces their arrival before they even step through the door and they continue to bicker as they to make their way to the front of the classroom, taking their usual seats in the front row but on the unofficial Gryffindor side, right across the mid-aisle from Harry and Draco. 

 

The blonde gives the pair an unimpressed look and rolls his eyes, immediately doing a subtle but obvious little impersonation of Granger by sticking out his front teeth and shaking his head. Ron, having caught the movement in his peripheral, goes beet red and is halfway out of his seat, when Professor Binns suddenly floats through the blackboard in his usual fashion and starts the lesson. 

 

Granger grabs Ron’s robes and forces him back down in his seat with a scowl and whispers something furiously at him. Ron turns his glare on her instead, but the girl is already focusing on the droning ghost professor and pointedly ignoring the redhead. 

 

History of Magic is by far the dullest subject on their timetable, and Professor Binns manages to make it even more so by delivering his lectures in a flat drone that has even the studious of students in a sleepy trance within minutes. 

 

Suddenly, something happens that has never happened before… A student puts up their hand. Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289 stutters to a stop and blinks in amazement, as if he’s just now noticed that there are actual students in the room in front of him. 

 

”Miss — er —?”

 

”Granger, Professor”, the Gryffindor says. ”I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

 

Dean Thomas snaps his mouth shut and tears his unseeing gaze away from the window, blinking rapidly; Lavender Brown’s head shoots up from its resting place on top of her folded arms; Neville Longbottom’s elbow slips off the desk; Blaise and Seamus who had been sitting with their heads close together, whispering about something or other, straightens up in their seats and cranes their necks to get a better look at both Granger’s frizzy head and Professor Binns’s transparent, shocked face. 

 

”My subject is History of Magic”, the ghost professor says in a dry, wheezy voice. ”I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends… In September of that year, a sub-committee of Sardinian sorcerers —”

 

He stutters to a halt once more. The whole class is definitely awake and intrigued now, as Granger’s hand is once again thrust into the air. 

 

”Miss Grant?”

 

”Please, Sir, don’t legends always have a basis in fact?”

 

”Well, yes, one could argue that, I suppose…” the ghost says slowly, peering in astonishment at Granger as though he’s never really seen a student before. ”However, the legend of which you speak is such a very _sensational_ , even _ludicrous_ tale… But, oh, very well… Let me see… The Chamber of Secrets…”

 

For the first time in the professor career, dead or alive, every student in the classroom hangs onto his every word, as he tells them the story of the four founders of Hogwarts, who, in a time when magic was feared and witches and wizards suffered persecution, came together to build a castle hidden from muggle eyes, where magical children could learn and develop their magic in a safe place… For many years the four friends worked in harmony, but slowly but steadily, a rift began to grow between Salazar Slytherin and the others when, for the sake of all of their safety, he wished to be more selective about the students admitted to the school, in other words not allow muggle-borns and thus risk the exposure of their world. Finally, a serious argument on the subject broke out between Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school for good. 

 

”Reliable historical sources tell us this much”, Professor Binns states drily. ”But, these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets… The story goes, that before he left, Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing… According to legend, Slytherin sealed the Chamber so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber and unleash the horror within, and by so doing… _purge_ the school of all who were deemed… _unworthy_ to study magic.”

 

As Professor Binns finishes the story, a heavy silence fills the room and not the sleepy kind that is usual for History of Magic, but a tense one as every person in the class continues to stare the ghost expectantly, hoping for more… the ghost looks positively annoyed at this, drawing himself up to his full height and soaring a few feet further towards the ceiling. 

 

”The whole thing is nonsense, of course! Naturally, the school has been searched many times, by some of the most learned witches and wizards, and no evidence of such a Chamber’s existence has ever been found. It does not exist.”

 

Granger’s hand shot into the air once more, ”Sir — what do you mean by ’the horror within’ the Chamber?”

 

”That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the heir of Slytherin alone can control”, Professor Binns says, looking even more annoyed when the class exchanges nervous looks. ”I tell you, it does not exist. There is no Chamber and no monster.”

 

”But, Sir”, Seamus says, without raising his hand. ”If the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no-one else _would_ be able to find it, would they?”

 

”Nonsense, O’Flaherty”, Binns snaps. ”If a long succession of Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses haven’t found the thing —”

 

”But, Professor”, Pansy interrupts him in a clear voice from her seat right behind Draco. ”You’d probably need to use Dark Magic to open it, wouldn’t you —?”

 

”Just because a wizard _doesn’t_ use Dark Magic, doesn’t mean he _can’t_ , Miss Pennyfeather! I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore—”

 

”But maybe you’d actually have to be related to Slytherin to open it, so Dumbledore couldn’t —” Dean Thomas pipes up from the Gryffindor side of the classroom, but Binns has obviously had enough. 

 

”That will do”, he says sharply, sounding almost alive for once. ”It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story — we will return — if you please — to _history_! To solid, believable, verifiable _facts_!”

 

And within minutes, the class has sunk back into its usual state of stupor. 

 

Harry, however can’t quite shake the unpleasant chill that engulfed him when Binns was talking about Salazar Slytherin and his views… Even though Harry got it, taking into account the way things were back then, how magical people were persecuted and burned alive (although, the poor people who actually perished from this were actually muggles, since any real witches burned at the stake could easily cast a protective charm on themselves and only pretend to go up in flames — but still), Harry could understand where Slytherin was coming from — but still, all the pureblood mania and muggle-born prejudice that is still a problem in some parts of the community to this day, and the reason Harry’s dad Sirius were ostracised from his whole family, seems to have stemmed from Salazar Slytherin himself — _so no wonder people think we’re evil bigots_ , Harry thinks sullenly and glances over at the Gryffindors on the other side of the classroom. 

 

Draco knocks his knee against his under the desk and Harry tears his eyes away from Ron and looks at him instead, mouthing _’What?’_

 

Draco just shakes his head and turns back to the front of the classroom again.


	10. Quidditch and broken bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes the Quidditch team and finds himself in the Hospital Wing again.

On Friday morning, something finally distracts at least Harry and Draco and the rest of the Slytherins from the school’s recent obsession with The Chamber of Secrets, because when they come out of the dorms they find a new notice on the board in the Common Room announcing open try-outs for the Slytherin Quidditch team on Monday night. Harry and Draco both turn to look at each other in excitement and start talking at the same time:

 

”We have to go for it —!” 

 

”We have to practise all weekend —!”

 

”—Yes! And tonight after dinner —!”

 

”—And on Monday before breakfast —!”

 

”—Yeah!”

 

They grin silently for a moment, then suddenly Draco’s grin falls and he glances over at the notice board again. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Harry asks. 

 

”There’s only the Seeker position available…”

 

Harry automatically turns to look at the notice again as well, but it doesn’t tell him anything new of course. Mentally scanning the Slytherin team line-up, he realises that Terence Higgs had been the only seventh year and therefore the only player to have graduated. 

 

”So? You always said you wanted to be Seeker?” he tells Draco, who simply nods but is still frowning at the notice.

 

”So, what’s the problem?”

 

”Well, we won’t both make the team…” Draco mutters. 

 

Harry feels his excitement fizzle out just as quickly as Draco’s at that realisation. Of course, chances of either of them making the team are very slim, regardless of how many positions are available, considering they’re only in second year and a lot of the other, older students who will likely also be trying out for the position, have been flying and playing for several more years than either of them have. 

 

But Draco is right, with only one open spot, they know for sure that they won’t both make the team. At least if there were two or more spots open, there would be a tiny possibility that they could both make the team and so they could happily fantasize about that whilst practising their flying all weekend… Now, they’re definitely each other’s competition. 

 

”It doesn’t matter”, Harry says with more conviction than he actually feels. ”If you make the team, I’ll be happy for you and I’ll be your biggest fan!”

 

Draco’s lips twitch, like they always do when he’s trying not to smile.

 

”I’ll even make a banner!” Harry adds. 

 

”No, you won’t!”

 

”And buttons!”

 

Draco snorts, ”And will you write me a song as well?”

 

”Well, a cheer at least.”

 

”You’re insane…” Draco says and shakes his head, but the smile has finally won out and the blonde can’t seem to get rid of it, so he turns away to hide it instead. 

 

”And if I make the team, I’m expecting you to at least make a button”, Harry says. 

 

As they make their way from the dungeons towards the Great Hall for breakfast, Draco’s mood seems to lift considerably again and they start discussing the most efficient way for them practise during the weekend, without access to any actual Quidditch equipment besides their own brooms. 

 

”Hiya, Harry!”

 

”Hello, Colin”, Harry answers automatically without tearing his gaze away from Draco. 

 

”Harry — Harry — a few of the students in my house have been saying you’re —”

 

But whatever the Gryffindors have been saying about him, Harry doesn’t find out because before Colin has a chance of finishing his sentence, he’s been washed away by the tide of people making their way towards the Great Hall. They hear him squeak ”See you, Harry!” and then he’s gone. Draco and Harry both frown after him, their mood significantly dampened once more. 

 

”Wonder what the Gryffindorks have been gossiping about”, Draco mutters. 

 

”About me being the Heir of Slytherin probably”, Harry says jokingly, trying to make light of it, but  as the words come out of his mouth he feels his stomach drop with realisation, remembering that Hufflepuff boy Finch-Fletchly who ran away from him the day before. 

 

Draco doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t laugh either, which makes Harry feel even worse. But they both try their hardest to pretend everything’s fine and by the time they’ve finished their breakfast and are strolling towards the greenhouses for double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, Harry’s almost convinced himself everything actually _is_ fine.

 

Besides doing their homework for Charms and Potions, Harry and Draco spend almost the whole weekend flying, barely taking meal breaks in-between sessions, and Harry has never felt so good and alive in his life. 

 

They keep flying as the sun sets and don’t stop until it’s got too dark to see properly. Harry races Draco to the ground and touches down first, cheering triumphantly while lighting his wand with a _Lumos_ spell and watching Draco, who touches down a couple of seconds later, grinning excitedly despite losing the impromptu race. 

 

Harry feels his stomach flutter as he looks at his friend, his grey eyes glittering in Harry’s wand light and his white-blonde hair unusally windswept.

 

”We should do this every weekend”, Harry says as they make their way back to the castle. ”No matter what happens tomorrow, even if neither of us make the team, we should still come out here and fly together.”

 

”Yeah, we definitely should! Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if Flint picks you to be the new Seeker… You’re really good, Harry.”

 

”So are you”, Harry says. 

 

”Yeah, but you’re better — and there’s only room for one, remember?”

 

”I might fly faster than you, but I might be rubbish at catching the Snitch”, Harry counters. 

 

And it’s true, he might be rubbish… Truth is, he’s no way of knowing because he’s never actually played with a Snitch before. Whenever he and Sirius play together in the backyard, they’ve always taken turns as Chaser and Keeper. Harry’s never even held a real Snitch. He knows James, his biological father, was a Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team when he and Harry’s dads were in school. And he knows James had a snitch that he’d knicked at one point, Sirius keeps telling Harry things like that about James, like it’s something to be proud of, and Harry never really knows how to feel about it… 

 

And there’s more to being a seeker than good flying, Harry knows. In fact, the flying is definitely secondary, because before you can start chasing the snitch you need to actually find it and although James had also worn glasses, Harry knows he didn’t start using them until fifth year which means his eye sight can’t have been _that_ bad, if he got away with it for so many years… Whereas Harry is practically blind without his glasses on… 

 

”Father said he would buy the whole team new brooms”, Draco mumbles as they climb the stairs to the castle. ”Nimbus 2001s.”

 

He’s avoiding Harry’s eyes and when Harry turns his head to look at him, his already rosy cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. 

 

”What, for the whole team? That’s insane!” Harry says.

 

”I told him no”, Draco says quickly.

 

”Why?”

 

”Because…” Draco mutters. ”It’s embarassing, isn’t it?”

 

”Yeah, maybe a little”, Harry agrees carefully. ”But if you make the team, you should definitely tell him he can buy the brooms — just think of the advantage we’d have over the other teams!”

 

”If I make the team, he won’t see the need to buy the brooms”, Draco says bitterly. ”Don’t you get it? Father never does anything without a reason.”

 

”Well… No-one does, really, if you think about it”, Harry says awkwardly. 

 

Draco rolls his eyes, ”You know what I mean.”

 

”Well…” Harry says again and trails off. 

 

He doesn’t want to say anything bad about Lucius Malfoy — it’s Draco’s dad, after all — but he doesn’t want to pretend not to get it either. And the truth is, if one of his dads bribed the teachers so that Harry would get a better grade, or the Quidditch team so that Harry would be chosen regardless of his performance during the try-outs, he would feel embarassed too. 

 

*

 

Harry awakes on Monday morning feeling both nervous and excited about the up-coming Quidditch try-outs and although Draco claims to be fine, he eats even less eggs than normal for breakfast and then stays unusally quiet throughout the day. It’s not until their last class of the day, which happens to be Defence Against the Dark Arts, that he regains some colour in his cheeks and focus in his eyes. 

 

Ever since the disasterous lesson with the pixies, Lockhart has not brought any more living creatures to class. Instead he has taken to reading passages from his books out loud to them and sometimes re-enacting the more dramatic parts and, to Harry’s immense chagrin, he almost always asks Harry to assist him. So far, Harry has played the part of a yeti suffering from a head-cold and a vampire who, after Lockhart had dealt with him, had been unable to eat anything besides lettuce. 

 

Today, Lockhart has been telling them about a Transylvanian villager he once cured of a Babbling Curse and when he looks up from his book, his gaze immediately finds Harry in the back row, despite Harry’s best efforts to sink so low in his seat that his chin is level with the desk. 

 

”Harry!” Lockhart exclaims, his many gleaming white teeth on display. ”Would you be so kind —”

 

Harry simply glares back at him. 

 

”— to join me in a brief reconstruction? Come now, don’t be shy!”

 

Harry swallows a sigh and drags himself up to standing. 

 

”There’s a good lad!” Lockhart says heartily. ”Now, Harry, if you’ll stand over here — over here, yes — and remember, you’ve been hit with a Babbling Curse — don’t worry about the accent —!”

 

Harry instictively pinches his lips shut in pure defiance, but then he glances over at Draco in the back row and realises that, for the first time today, the blonde doesn’t look like he’s about to faint at any moment. In fact, he almost looks amused. 

 

”Ready, Harry?” Lockhart says in a stage whisper and brandishes his wand with a dramatic flair. 

 

”Sure”, Harry mutters, thinking if it can get Draco to cheer up, what’s the harm?

 

”Aaaand… Go!” 

 

”Blah blah blah bla—”

 

” _No, no, no_! Come, now, Harry! How are your classmates going to get any sort of an idea of what happened with that unrealistic rendition? Now, _focus_! Go again!”

 

Harry glances over at Draco again and the unmistakable twitch in the other boy’s lips is the only thing keeping him from flipping Lockhart the bird and marching out of the classroom. He takes a deep breath, and starts babbling again, except actual words this time…

 

”Aha!” Lockhart exclaims in his usual reanactment voice and pretends to pull up short next to Harry. 

 

”Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed —”

 

”Just as I thought! This poor old woman has clearly been hit with a Babbling Curse —!”

 

”Knotgrass —” Harry says and shoots the other students an exaggerated glare when they snicker and giggle. 

 

”— Don’t fret, Madam —!”

 

”— Bicorn horn, Boomslang skin —”

 

”— I’ll soon have you back to rights! _Stultioquium Desino_!”

 

”— Ashwinder eggs — Oh, sorry, Professor…”

 

”Harry, don’t break character — now, Madam, as you can see, you are no longer afflicted by the curse — no, no, no need to thank me — ”

 

”Alright.”

 

”Madam, please, your gratitude is reward enough!”

 

”Can I sit down now?”

There is a chorus of snickers and giggles from the other students and Harry gives them a bitter eyeroll as soon as his back is turned to Lockhart. 

 

He gratefully collapses in his seat next to Draco and the blonde gives him a fond look, his lips twitching again. Harry feels a flutter in his chest and smirks back, rolling his eyes again. 

 

”Obliviate me, please”, he mutters.

 

”Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad… Remember last week?”

 

”Ugh, don’t remind me!” Harry hisses. 

 

But when Draco giggles softly and his insides flutter pleasantly again, he thinks he would happily play a starved vampire and stuff his face with lettuce every day for the rest of the school year as long as it made Draco that happy. 

 

After a quick dinner in the Great Hall, Harry and Draco grab their brooms from the dungeons and make their way to the Quidditch pitch along with the other Slytherins hoping to make the team. The team captain Marcus Flint is waiting for them when they get there and instructs them all to line up in front of him. Harry scans the small crowd quickly, counting three other second-years besides himself and Draco, namely Crabbe, Goyle and a girl named Millicent Bulstrode, none of which Harry has ever really bothered to get to know. 

 

He said hello to Millicent at some point in first year, but only recieved a suspiscious glare back and since then he’s avoided the girl as much as possible. Come to think of it, he’s avoided all contact with Crabbe and Goyle as well, ever since the two of them accompanied Draco to his and Ron’s carriage on the Hogwarts Express and tried to pick a fight. Of course, he should have forgiven the two boys for this the minute he forgave Draco, especially considering they were probably just doing what the blonde told them to do, but for some reason Harry has never really felt the same need for a clean slate with Crabbe and Goyle… _Gee, I wonder why_ , Harry thinks and smiles wrily to himself as he watches Crabbe swing the Beater bat violently and nearly knocking himself in the face.

 

”Next”, Flint barks and gives Crabbe an unimpressed look as he crash lands next to him. 

 

”Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Harry says under his breath, nudging Draco’s shoulder gently with his own. 

 

”What?” Draco says distractedly, shifting his feet restlessly as he watches Millicent fly a lap around the pitch and then catches the quaffle tossed to her without fumbling.

 

”Why on earth would you want to hang out with Crabbe and Goyle?” Harry asks Draco under his breath.

 

”What?” Draco says again and turns to look at Harry. 

 

”Crabbe and Goyle. I mean, come on…”

 

”I don’t hang out with them”, Draco says and squints his eyes at Harry. ”Are you feeling alright?”

 

”Yeah, but you used to, didn’t you? You were with them on the Hogwarts Express —”

 

”Yeah, so? I didn’t really know anyone but Pansy and I wanted to go check you out, so I needed backup…”

 

Harry’s mind whirrs to a stop, echoing _check you out, check you out, check you out_ … and he just blinks stupidly for a moment. Draco gives him another suspiscious look. Harry shakes his head a little. Draco frowns, but turns back to look at Millicent land in front of Flint.

 

”Oh Merlin, I’m up next”, he mutters faintly and takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly. 

 

”That was a pretty good catch”, the team captain grunts and Millicent perks up a little. ”But I already have all the chasers I need, I’m looking for a new seeker and your flying technique won’t cut it… Next!”

 

”Good luck”, Harry mutters and gives Draco’s shoulders a quick rub. 

 

Draco shoots him a glance, but says nothing. 

 

”Next!” Flint barks again. 

 

Draco quickly mounts his Nimbus and kicks off the ground. Harry feels a strange mix of pride and envy when Draco flies around the pitch, swerving gracefully to avoid the bludger and then spotting the golden snitch after only fifteen minutes in the air and actually managing to snatch it only ten minutes after that. 

 

”Not bad”, Flint says when Draco lands gracefully in front of him. ”Not bad at all. Stick around… Next!”

 

Harry takes a deep breath and kicks off the ground and he can’t help but grin as he feels the all-too-familiar rush. He zooms around the pitch, swirling and swerving around the bludger. His hair whips around his face and the cold evening air scratches his face and knuckles. Suddenly he catches a glint of gold in his peripheral and swerves around… There, the snitch! 

 

He lies flat along his broom and speeds up, catching up to the small golden ball as it tries to flit away from him. He throws himself sideways and tumbles in the air as the snitch zips to the side and manages to swat it with his numbing fingers, then clutches it tightly in his fist and pulls the broom up into the air again only seconds before colliding with the ground. 

 

He rights himself on the broom and ducks as the bludger makes one final attempt to hit him, then gently touches down on the ground, still clutching the snitch since he’s the last person to try out. He hands the small ball to Flint who gives him an appraising look. 

 

”Impressive…” he grunts and then looks between Harry and Draco. ”Very impressive for a second year, actually. I’m going to have to go with Potter, Malfoy… You can be the reserve seeker, though.”

 

”I knew he’d pick you over me”, Draco says when he and Harry are walking back to the castle. ”You’re an amazing flier…”

 

”Hey, you made the team, too”, Harry says. ”We still get to practise together!”

 

”Yeah, that’s true…”

 

”Draco? Are you okay with this?”

 

Draco glances at him and Harry finds himself holding his breath, waiting for his reply. _And what do I do if he says he’s not okay? Do I give up the chance to play Quidditch so that Draco can have my spot on the team? Do I—_

 

”Yeah, I’m okay, Harry”, Draco says and gives him a small, crooked smile. 

 

”Oh…” Harry says, releasing his breath in a relieved whoosh. ”Good…”

 

They walk in silence for a moment.

 

”Wait, hang on”, Harry says suddenly. ”You _hired_ Crabbe and Goyle as _bodyguards_?”

 

”No, I didn’t _hire_ them”, Draco says with a smirk. ”I _strategically befriended_ them.”

 

”Oh, I see”, Harry mutters, thinking _that sounds just like Draco actually._ ”What made you change strategies then?”

 

”You know what.”

 

”No, I don’t. Tell me.”

 

”Well I hardly need bodyguards when my b- _best friend_ is The Boy Who Lived, now do I… Not to mention The Heir Of Slytherin!”

 

”Ha-ha”, Harry mutters. 

 

”What, I’m serious. Half the school thinks you can control a secret monster. I’m covered until graduation!”

 

”You’re such an idiot”, Harry laughs and gives the blonde a playful shove. 

 

*

 

During their next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry is hauled to the front of the class before he’s even had a chance to sit down and instructed to act as a werewolf as Lockhart gets ready to reenact another one of his Greatest Hits. 

 

”Nice loud howl, Harry!”

 

Harry shoots him a thunderous glare, but since he knows by now that the quickest way to get the nightmare over with and himself back in the safety of his seat next to Draco at the back of the classroom is to play along with the professor’s shenanigans, he takes a quick deep breath and lets out a loud howl.

 

”Exactly”, Lockhart praises him before jumping into character. ”And then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced — like this — _slammed_ him to the ground —!”

 

” _Ouff_!” Harry grunts as the larger man suddenly wrestles him to the floor. 

 

”Thus!” Lockhart exclaims, splaying his hand on Harry’s cheek and pressing his face against the cold flag stone. ”With one hand, I managed to hold him down, boys and girls — with my other, I put my wand to his throat —”

 

Harry’s heart stutters and he desperately tries to swivel his head to get a look at the man to see if he’s actually got his wand pointed at him. 

 

”Stay still, Harry, there’s a good boy — I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the _immensely complex_ Homorphus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry —”

 

Harry tries to moan despite Lockhart’s hand squishing his face together, but it comes out as a gurgle. 

 

”Higher than that”, Lockhart admonishes. 

 

Harry gurgles louder. 

 

”Good — the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man! — simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks!”

 

Lockhart finally lets Harry up and claps him on the shoulder with a grin and a wink. Harry glares back and rubs the side of his face that had been pressed against the cold, dirty floor… Then, remembering Lockhart’s sweaty palm pushing against the other side of his face, he rubs that too. 

 

”Well done, Harry!” Lockhart says. ”Give him a round of applause, boys and girls!”

 

There is a subdued smatter of hand-clapping, barely audible over the chorus of snickers. Harry pinches his lips together and quickly marches to his place in the back. Draco gives him a sympathetic look, but his eyes are glittering. 

 

”Shut up”, Harry mutters. 

 

Draco simply snorts and turns back to face Lockhart as he continues to tell the class of all the ways the villagers had shown him their gratitude. 

 

The bell rings, cutting the professor off finally and he holds out his arms as if to say, Alas, I cannot continue regale you with the stories of my victories! and Harry knows, because he’s said those exact words in the past, while raising his arms in this exact way. 

 

”This class is a joke”, Harry mutters and stuffs his books back into his book bag. 

 

Draco hums in agreement. 

 

”Homework!” Lockhart exclaims and grins as if he’s just surprised them with a treat. ”Compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of _Magical Me_ to the author of the best one!”

 

Draco makes a gagging noise and Harry chuckles. Behind them, Pansy Parkinson lets out a high-pitched giggle as well and Harry immediately feels his hackles go up, but he quickly smoothes the scowl from his face when he sees Draco’s proud smirk. 

 

They have half an hour to kill before dinner and since they have Quidditch practise afterwards, Harry decides to write his weekly letter home now instead of doing it before bed like he usually does, so when they get to the Slytherin Common Room he plops down in one of the sofas in front of the fireplace and gets a quill and some parchment out of his bag. 

 

”What are you doing?” Draco says, sprawling out on the sofa next to him. 

 

”Letter to my dads”, Harry mutters. ”I still haven’t told them I made the team…”

 

”Are they going to make a big deal out of it, you think?” 

 

”Hm, I don’t know… They’re usually pretty low-key… But my dad — Sirius — is really into Quidditch, so he might get really excited about it, plus James…” Harry trails off and fidgets uncomfortably. avoiding Draco’s eyes, silently cursing himself; Why’d he have to go and mention James, now Draco is going to ask lots of questions…

 

”James Potter?” Draco says and Harry gives him a surprised look to which the blonde shrugs simply. ”His name is in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ … We don’t have to talk about them, if you don’t want.”

 

Them, Harry thinks. So he must have read about Lily as well. 

 

”No, it’s alright”, he mutters. ”I just feel really awkward talking about them like they’re my parents, I mean _they were_ , technically, but…”

 

”Yeah, I get it”, Draco says softly. 

 

”Yeah…”

 

”James Potter was a Seeker too, wasn’t he?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”So dad might get all excited that I’m following in his footsteps, I dunno… I mean, they were best friends, so he must miss him a lot, you know? And I know I look just like him...  and if I take after him and play Quidditch like him, I’ll be even more like him and remind my dad of him even more, which isn’t a _bad thing_ I guess, except… I dunno, it makes me feel weird, that’s all…”

 

Draco gives him a small smile, but says nothing. 

 

”Anyway”, Harry mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up a little. ”I should get this letter done before dinner…”

 

”Want me to leave you alone?”

 

”No, you don’t have to”, Harry says and shrugs. ”I’ll be quick…”

 

”Okay”, Draco says softly and picks up one of the books from his book bag and starts flipping through it while he waits. 

 

” _Dad and Daddy_ ”, Harry scribbles. ” _Guess what? I made the Slytherin Quidditch team! I’m the new Seeker, and Draco is the reserve, so we both get to practise together even if we won’t be playing any games together. Our first game is on Saturday and it’s against Gryffindor — I know this will be go against your Gryffindor pride, but you better root for me to catch the snitch!”_

 

Harry smirks to himself, picturing what his dads would look like sitting in the stands, reluctantly donning green and silver for the first time in their lives, and makes a mental note to get them Slytherin scarves for Christmas, just to see if they’ll wear them…

 

”Other than that, life at Hogwarts is pretty much back to normal”, Harry writes, only feeling a small twinge of guilt considering he’s not lying _per se_ … things are slowly getting back to normal after the attack on Mrs Norris — just not for him — but he doesn’t want his dads to worry… _They might get suspiscious if I don’t have_ anything _to complain about though_ , he thinks and decides to include some more information.

 

” _I’m doing well in all my classes, except Potions which is really difficult…”_ he scribbles. _”Also I hate DADA because professor Lockhart is a joke, and he always makes me act out scenes from his books with him! Today he made me pretend to be a werewolf and then he pushed me to the floor as he demonstrated this charm he used to cure a werewolf once, it was really humiliating! Anyway, hope you are good! Give Selina a cuddle from me! Hugs from your Harry”_

 

”All done?” Draco says when Harry rolls up the letter and puts his ink well and quill away. 

 

”Yeah, let’s go eat!”

 

”Aren’t you going to send it?”

 

”I’ll stop by the owlery on the way to practise.”

 

At dinner, Harry discretely eyes Draco as he fills a quarter of his plate with food and then gently spreads it around to make it look like there’s more of it. Harry’s witnessed Draco do this so many times and never said anything about it, but for the first time he speaks up. 

 

”Is that all you’re going to eat?”

 

Draco immediately tenses up, his back going rigid just like that time Narcissa admonished him for his lack of manners at the dinner table. 

 

”It’s just that, we have quidditch practise”, Harry hurries to adds. ”You’re going to need your strength. That’s all.”

 

Draco seems to deliberate with himself, and swallows thickly as he scans the spread of food in front him on the table. He then reaches out and grabs the ladle of the nearest pot with a slightly trembling hand and then scoops up a couple of potatoes to add to his plate. 

 

Harry decides that will have to do and gives the blonde an encouraging smile, before he starts to tuck into his own food hungrily.

 

Draco takes his sweet time as usual and when Harry has finished his treacle tart, he is still working on the extra potatoes. Harry waits patiently for him to pick his way through the potatoes and doesn’t say anything to him, just sips his pumpkin juice calmly and eventually Draco manages to clean his plate. Harry gives him another smile, and they make their way to the owlery together. 

 

Flint and the rest of the Quidditch team are waiting for them in the changing rooms and Flint flings a couple of quidditch uniforms at them and tells them to get changed while he goes over the new training program. 

 

Harry gets butterflies in his belly as he slides on his pads and glancing over at Draco, the butterflies get even more excited. The green in Draco’s uniform somehow makes his skin seem less ghostly, but the silver brings out the grey in his eyes… Draco glances up and meets his eyes briefly… Harry’s whole stomach flips over… He forces himself to look at Flint’s diagram instead and tells himself to _focus_. 

 

When Harry collapses into bed three hours later, he is aching in places he wasn’t even aware he had and judging from the muted groan coming from Draco’s bed, the blonde is experiencing a similar sensation. Harry smiles to himself and starts to drift off… 

 

”Harry”, Draco moans from the other bed and Harry blinks. ”I take it back, I don’t want to be on the team…”

 

Harry chuckles tiredly and hums in agreement, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Finally, sleep wins though and darkness overtakes him. 

 

At breakfast the next day, Hedwig swoops down and lands gracefully next to Harry’s porridge bowl and sticks out her leg dutifully. Harry unties the small roll of parchment attached to it and then gives her a piece of bacon and a pat on the head. She hoots affectionately at him before taking flight again. 

 

Harry unrolls the parchment, surprised to see his dad’s handwriting. It usually takes his dads at least a few days to respond to his letters… Also, his daddy is always the one writing to him, adding _”Dad says hi”_ or something to that affect. This is the first time his dad is writing to him directly. It makes Harry stomach clench with worry and he quickly scans the letter, expecting some kind of bad news about his daddy being ill, or —

 

But no. Nothing. 

 

All it says is that they’re both happy that he’s made the Slytherin quidditch team and _of course we’ll be rooting for you to win_ , and then Sirius says that if Harry feels singled out in DADA he should talk to his Head of House about it or, if he wants, his daddy can send a letter to the Headmaster. 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

He reads the letter again, _”…Harry, if you feel like you’re being singled out and mistreated in one of your classes, you should go to your Head of House! Or if you want, your daddy says he’s more than happy to write a letter to Dumbledore. Just let us know! We love you, take care of yourself and good luck on Saturday!”_

 

Harry blinks again. _Your daddy says_ , he thinks numbly. _Nothing about him being ill… But…_

 

”Any news?” Draco asks. 

 

”What”, Harry mumbles. ”Oh, no, just… my dad — I mean, my _dads_ — responding to my letter.”

 

”That was quick!”

 

”Yeah… I know…”

 

”What’s wrong?”

 

Draco frowns when Harry hesitates to answer and places a hand lightly on top of his arm. Harry just shakes his head. 

 

”You sure?”

 

”It’s probably nothing…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Okay… If you’re sure…”

 

Harry goes over the letter in his head several time during History of Magic, worry still gnawing at him relentlessly, but when they enter Greenhouse Three for their Herbology class and continue to repot Mandrake Roots, the high-pitched squeals of the ugly little plants manage to drown some of the worry and by the time he and Draco stand side by side at their desk at the front of the Potions classroom stirring lizard’s eyes into a Pepperup Potion under the unnervingly watchful eye of Professor Snape, the letter is all but forgotten again. 

 

*

 

On Saturday morning, Harry wakes up early and lies still thinking about the coming Quidditch match for a while nervous butterflies start hatching in his belly. After half an hour, Draco starts stirring in the other bed and Harry turns over to his side and watches silently as the blonde boy stretches, still half-asleep. 

 

Harry smiles to himself, admiring Draco’s lithe form arching under the cover and his wiry arms reaching up towards the headboard… _He might not eat enough, but he looks damn good_ , Harry thinks and blushes. 

 

Draco blinks his swollen eyes open and peers over at Harry. 

 

”What’re you grinning about?” he mutters thickly and Harry’s smile widens. ”Wha’ time’s it? How long’ve you been up?”

 

”I dunno, early”, Harry says. ”And I’m _not_ up.”

 

”Idiot. You know what I mean”, Draco grouses and swings himself up to sitting, his pale legs sticking out of the cover and dangling over the side of the bed. 

 

Harry glances at the other boy’s feet and notices how they brush the floor now. He feels a stab of annoyance that his friend keeps growing like a weed when he’s barely grown an inch since summer himself. He thinks about his dad teasing him and calling him runt, and frowns. He quickly goes over the other boys in second year and tries to think how many of them are taller than him… The answer, to Harry’s chagrine, is most of them… and some of the girls, as well… 

 

”Well, that wiped the grin away”, Draco says slowly and Harry glances over at him again. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it?”

 

”You didn’t mean what?” Harry says. 

 

”To call you an idiot? Or what else are you scowling about?”

 

”Nothing”, Harry says and rolls his eyes, pushing himself up to sitting as well. ”I’m just nervous about the match.”

 

”You’ll do great”, Draco says and waves his hand dismissively. 

 

”You can sleep for another hour at least”, Harry reminds him when they both get up and start getting dressed. ”You don’t have to go with me.”

 

”I’m up anyway”, Draco says and shrugs. ”I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I might as well go down to the Great Hall with you.”

 

”All right, if you’re sure… Hey! Where’s your button?”

 

”What button?” Draco says and instinctively looks down to see if his robe is missing one.

 

”The Harry Potter fanclub button!”

 

Draco rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch and he gently knocks his shoulder against Harry’s. 

 

When they get to the Great Hall, the rest of the team is already at the Slytherin table, eating breakfast in nervous silence and on the opposite side of the Hall, the Gryffindor team sits huddled together in a similar fashion. Harry slides into the seat next to Adrian and reaches for the coffee caraffe. The older boy gives him a small nod of acknowledgement and Harry nods back, before pouring himself and Draco coffee. 

 

”Wood is looking smug”, Flint mutters quietly, glaring over at the Gryffindor table. ”He’s probably underestimating our new Seeker—”

 

”He has a name, Marcus”, Adrian says in a long-suffering voice. 

 

”I know, and it’s a famous one, so why is Wood looking so damn sure of himself”, Flint counters. 

 

”The Weasleys don’t, for a change”, Adrian says. ”And they’ve been looking over here since Harry sat down. They probably know he’s good.”

 

Harry squirms uncomfortably in his seat. He’s used to people talking about him, but they’re usually doing it behind his back… Trust his team mates to do it right in front of him…

 

”He’s not good, he’s great”, Flint says. ”I’m sure we’re going to win today!”

 

The team captain leans back to pin Harry with an intense look from the other side of Adrian Pucey, acknowledging him for the first time since he walked into the Great Hall.

 

”It’s all on you, Potter! You better get that snitch —”

 

”Hey, Harry’s not the only one on the team”, Adrian protests. 

 

”No”, Flint growls back at him. ”But the Gryffindor Keeper is better than ours —”

 

”Hey!” Adrian splutters indignantly. ”She is not _better than me_ —!”

 

”Oh yeah? Prove it!”

 

”I might — if I had more _support_ from my _team captain_!”

 

Harry and Draco exchange a discrete look. It’s not the first time Flint and Pucey get into an argument like this, in fact it tends to happen every time the team the practises — _and before every match, apparently,_ Harry thinks — what’s weird is how close the two older boys seem to be whenever they’re _not_ in Quidditch robes, but lounging in the common room or making their way between classrooms, which they usually do together… Come to think of, Harry realises they usually sit next to each other during meals and in the library as well… 

 

”Potter, eat up already!” Flint says and stands up suddenly. ”That goes for the rest of you as well. Warm-up in fifteen minutes!”

 

Adrian slams his coffee cup down on the table and gets to his feet as well, storming out of the Great Hall in Flint’s wake. Harry looks at the rest of the team. They all give him smirks and head shakes, before finishing their breakfasts quickly and getting to their feet as well. 

 

”I guess I have to go”, Harry mumbles to Draco who nods. ”I’ll see you after the match?”

 

”You’ll see me in the stands _during_ the match”, Draco corrects with a smirk. ”I’ll be the one directing the Harry Potter fanclub to cheer —”

 

”Ha-ha”, Harry chuckles. 

 

” _Give me an H_ —!” Draco mock cheers. 

 

”Shut up, crazy person!” Harry laughs. 

 

”Go, already”, Draco says and rolls his eyes affectionately. ”Go win the match for us.”

 

At eleven o’clock the rest of the school is making their way down to the Quidditch pitch, but Harry is sitting in the changing room, clutching the bench and trying to keep his breakfast down as Flint gives them a so-called pep talk — although it’s more of a serious of threats, and Adrian is the one pointing it out — Harry tunes out the older boys bickering and squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing. 

 

He startles when someone suddenly gives his shoulder a rough shove. The rest of the team are on their feet, shouldering their brooms. Harry hurries to copy them. 

 

They all walk out onto the pitch in some sort of formation lead by Flint and Harry bringing up the rear, and a roar of noise greets them from the stands. Harry can hear some cheers from the Slytherin part of the crowd, but mainly it’s boos and hisses from the other three houses. 

 

The Gryffindor team is already waiting for them in the middle of the pitch, next to the Quidditch teacher Madam Hooch, in her judging robes. As the Slytherin team joins them, she instructs Flint and Oliver Wood to shake hands, which they do reluctantly, but once they’re gripping the other’s hand they seem to be squeezing a lot harder than necessary. 

 

Harry hears Adrian let out a tiny huff of a sigh, but no-one else seems to have noticed. 

 

”All right”, Madam Hooch says and both teams quickly mount their brooms. ”On my whistle… three… two… one…”

 

With a roar from the crowd to speed them on, both teams kick off the ground and soar towards the dark grey sky. Harry continues higher than the rest of his teammates, squinting around for the Snitch as his heart hammers hard in his chest, Flint’s words echoing in his head, _It’s all on you, Potter! You better get that Snitch! Get the Snitch or die trying, Potter!_

 

Being new on the team, Harry is uncomfortably aware that he’s given a lot more attention from the crowd and the commentator Lee Jordan than a Seeker normally would this early in the game… Usually, most of the attention would be on the Chasers and Keepers at this point, but because no-one knows what to expect from him or the Gryffindor Seeker — a Third Year named Cormac McLaggen, who is also new — Lee spends an unnecessarily long time judging their flying technique and pondering the reasoning of both team captains when choosing them for their positions. 

 

”McLaggen, to be fair, is one skilled flier, but doesn’t really have what we would call a traditional Seeker build, after all… Now, Potter, on the other hand, there’s a Seeker’s body if I ever saw one, small and light, but also a fair flier, I have to say —”

 

Harry bristles… _Great, now everyone’s going to laugh and whisper about how_ small _I am too_ … He forces himself to drown the commentary out and starts squinting for the Snitch again. On the other side of the pitch, McLaggen is zipping back and forth above the goal hoops, clearly having been given different instructions from his team captain —

 

Suddenly, a bludger comes pelting towards Harry; he whirls sideways and avoids it so narrowly that he can feel it ruffle his hair as it flies past… He swerves around and stares back as fifth-year Lucian Bole, one of the Slytherin Beaters, streaks up and gives the bludger a heavy whack with his club, aiming for one of the Gryffindor Chasers; but halfway towards Katie Bell, the bludger changes direction and shoots straight for Harry —

 

He dives to avoid it and Lucian manages to hit it again but with no time to aim, this time he sends it in a random direction; once again, the bludger swerves like a boomerang and heads for Harry’s head again —

 

Hunching over his Nimbus 2000, Harry puts on a burst of speed and zooms towards the other end of the pitch. With his heart now lodged in his throat, he can barely breathe and still the bludger is whistling along behind him, chasing him over the pitch… _Bludgers aren’t supposed to chase one specific player… Something’s wrong…_

 

The other Slytherin Beater, Peregrine Derrick, is waiting for Harry and rogue bludger at the other end of the pitch and Harry hurries to duck as the older boy swings, sending the bludger off course, but as though magnetically attracted to Harry, the bludger soon starts chasing after him again. 

 

Harry flies off at full speed again, as heavy drops of rain starts to fall and splatter his glasses. He squints his eyes, trying to catch any glimmer of gold. 

 

The bludger keeps whizzing after him and soon, he’s got Bole and Derrick on either side of him, swinging their clubs madly at the persistent bludger, and nearly whacking Harry himself at one point, and between the rain splattered on his spectacles and his teammates flailing arms, it’s impossible for Harry to see anything else. 

 

”Someone’s — tampered — with — it”, Bole grunts and hits the bludger with a deafening crunch when it makes yet another attempt on Harry’s life. 

 

”Yeah — We need — time out —” Derrick gasps and wheels around, waving his arm at Flint. 

 

Seconds later, Madam Hooch’s whistle rings out and Harry dives towards the ground, flanked by the two burly Beaters. They land in front of Flint who is glaring at the two taller boys, demanding to know what’s going on. 

 

”What the hell are you two playing at? Where we you when that bludger stopped me from scoring?”

 

”We were twenty feet above you stopping the other bludger from killing Potter”, Derrick snarls. ”It’s been fixed — it won’t leave him alone, it’s not gone for anyone else all game!”

 

”But the bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our practise yesterday”, Adrian says with a worried frown. ”How could anyone —”

 

”I knew Wood looked smug!” Flint snarls. ”I’m sure he’s done something to it!”

 

”Wood? Really?” Adrian says, giving the team captain a sideway glance. ”I don’t think—”

 

”No-one asked you!” Flint snaps. 

 

Harry looks over his shoulder. Madam Hooch is approaching their team with long strides. He feels his heart stutter in his chest. 

 

”Listen”, he says hurriedly, cutting off Adrian’s heated response. ”I can’t see anything with you two flying so close to me, the only way I’ll catch the snitch this way is if flies up my sleeve! Go back to the rest of the team, and let me worry about the bludger —!”

 

”Don’t be thick”, Derrick says. ”It’ll take your head off!”

 

Flint looks down at Harry with an appraising frown. 

 

”Let’s ask for an inguiry —” Adrian says. 

 

”If we stop the match, we’ll have to forfeit”, Flint snaps. 

 

”You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own —!”

 

”It’s okay”, Harry cuts in desperately. ”I can do it!”

 

”This is all your fault”, Adrian yells at Flint. ”You and your stupid pep-talks! ’Get the Snitch or die trying’, why the hell would you tell him that —!”

 

”He says he can do it”, Flint growls. 

 

Madam Hooch finally gets to them, ”Ready to resume play?”

 

”Yes!” Flint says. 

 

They all kick off the ground again and resume their positions. Harry soars above the rest of the team, warily watching out for the rogue bludger while desperately trying to catch a glimpse of something golden. 

 

The rain is falling heavier now, but he can still hear the bludger when it whooshes by… He flies higher and higher, looping and swooping, spiralling and zigzagging, rolling, feeling dizzier but also more alive than ever before… A whistling in his ear tells him that the bludger has just missed him again and he quickly speeds in the opposite direction… 

 

Suddenly, he glimpses a glint of something in his peripheral and whirls around… For an agonising moment, Harry hangs stunned in mid-air, barely able to breathe as the truth slams into his mind… There amongst the silver sheets of rain, he can see _the golden Snitch!_

 

WHAM!

 

A wave of pain hits him out of nowhere and he doubles over with a gasp, then slides sideways on his rain-slick broom and starts to fall off, clinging on only thanks to one knee still crooked over it… Harry’s eyes fill up with tears and he grabs blinding for the broom but his right arm hangs uselessly over his head and the pain spikes as it dangles; it suddenly dawns on Harry what must have happened: He must have stayed still a second too long and the bludger finally got him, smashing elbow — 

 

Suddenly, he sees the blurry shape of the bludger come hurtling towards him for a second attack, this time aiming straight for his face —

 

Harry hurls himself up on the broom, cradling his broken arm carefully against his chest as he grips the broom stick with his other hand, he swerves again to avoid the bludger and zooms blindly towards the place where he’d spotted the Snitch — _There — gold_ — Harry lets go of the broom and makes a wild snatch with his good arm, his fingers closing around something cold and round, the tiny wings fluttering desperately for a moment, then retreating back into the the gold casing, admitting defeat; through the daze of pain, Harry is faintly aware of what this means… _we’ve won, we’ve won, we’ve actually won…_ but in the next second he has to put all his remaining thought and strength into gripping his broom with his legs and keep himself conscious long enough to land his broom safely on the ground.

 

With a splattering thud he hits the muddy ground and finally rolls off the broom. His right arm is hanging at a very strange angle and currents of white-hot pain runs through it… And then finally, he faints. 

 

When he comes back around, he is not painfree and dry in the Hospital Wing as he would have liked, but still lying on his back in the mud with rain splattering against his face and the pain in his arm is just as excruciating… Someone else is there, though. Someone is leaning over him. He sees a glitter of teeth.

 

”Oh no, not you”, he moans. 

 

”Poor boy, doesn’t know what he’s saying!” Lockhart says loudly to the other Slytherins as they begin to crowd around them. ”Not to worry, Harry! I’m about to fix your arm!”

 

” _No!_ ” Harry says and tries to sit up. 

 

A wave of pain rolls over him and his vision darkens briefly. Bile wells up in his throat and he swallows thickly. 

 

”Lie back, Harry”, Lockhart says soothingly and Harry feels his hand pushing against his shoulder. ”It’s a simple charm, I’ve used it countless of times —”

 

”No”, Harry gasps again, squeezing his eyes shut. ”Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?”

 

”He really should, Professor”, he hears Adrian say from somewhere above him.

 

”Great capture, Potter”, Flint says. ”Really spectacular!”

 

”Marcus”, Adrian admonishes. ”Not now!”

 

”What? Lighten up, we won!”

 

” _Harry_!” Draco’s anxious voice calls out from nearby. 

 

”He’s okay”, Adrian calls over his shoulder. 

 

 _Oh yeah, just peachy,_ Harry thinks bitterly. 

 

”Lie back, Harry”, Lockhart says soothingly and Harry feels his hand pushing against his shoulder. ”It’s a simple charm, I’ve used it countless of times —”

 

”No”, Harry gasps again, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

”Stand back!” Lockhart says loudly, ignoring him. 

 

”No — please —”

 

Harry squints up at Lockhart and sees him twirling his wand, and a second later he directs it at Harry’s arm. A strange and rather unpleasant sensation starts at Harry’s right shoulder and then spreads quickly all the way down to his fingertips. It almost feels as though his entire arm is deflating, and not daring to look at what’s happening to him, he shuts his eyes again. 

 

His fears are quickly confirmed when there’s a chorus of gasps around him. His arm doesn’t hurt anymore, but on the other hand it doesn’t feel remotely like an arm at all.

 

”Ah”, Lockhart says. ”Yes — well — that can sometimes happen — but the point is, the bones are no longer broken, see! — so, Harry, if you’ll just toddle up to the Hospital Wing —”

 

Finally, Harry blinks his eyes open and peers down at his arm in dread… What he sees almost makes him pass out again: poking out of the end of his quidditch robes is what looks like a flesh-coloured rubber glove — he tries to wriggle his fingers — nothing happens…

 

”Harry! What —!”

 

Looking up in dismay, Harry meets Draco’s eyes. The blonde is doubled over next to Adrian, trying to catch his breath, but it quickly stutters in his throat and his eyes narrow suspisciously. 

 

”What the hell did he do to your arm —?” he shrieks in panic. 

 

”Draco, what —?” 

 

The low, rumbling voice of Professor Snape alerts Harry of his Head of House’s presence a second before the man appears behind Draco. His black eyes quickly finds Harry and then flicker down to his arm; his face immediately drains of what little colour it had to start with and he whips his head around and fixes Lockhart with a piercing death glare. 

 

”What did you do?” he demands in an unusually loud and uncontrolled voice. 

 

”Just a little bone-fixing charm to sort young Harry out —” Lockhart starts, but falters when Snape pushes Adrian and Flint aside and takes a few threatening steps towards him. 

 

”Fix? _Fix?_ ” Snape hisses. 

 

Lockhart stumbles back a step and blinks owlishly at the other professor.

 

”Well, the bones are no longer broken, as you can see —”

 

”Broken? _Broken?_ There aren’t any bones left, _you complete_ —!” Snape thunders, but cuts himself off and takes a deep breath to compose himself.

 

Harry stares between the two professors, then looks over at Draco and his teammates; everyone is staring at the Potions Master in shock… They’ve never seen him lose his temper like this, especially with another professor… 

 

Snape takes another deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is controlled once more but made of pure ice.

 

”I will now escort my student to the Hospital Wing… After I have done so, I will contact his guardians… But when they arrive at the castle and demand to know what has happened to their son, _you_ will explain this to them… since _you_ are the one who’s gone and _buggered up_ their son’s arm like the _incompetent imbecile_ that you are… _is that understood?”_

 

Harry and Draco exchange a startled look. Harry thinks Draco must be thinking the same as him: that Professor Snape must be furious indeed to be speaking like this to a fellow teacher, in front of students no less, even if the teacher is Lockhart. 

 

”Because if you think that I’ll be subjecting myself to Remus Lupin’s fatherly wrath unduly, then you are sorely mistaken!” Snape finishes in a snarl. 

 

Harry frowns. Why would Professor Snape of all people be afraid of his daddy’s wrath? If anything, his dad is the one with a temper… 

 

A memory flares up, Ron and Draco standing at his bedside in the Hospital Wing and telling him about his daddy being livid… He hadn’t believed it then and he still struggles to believe it now… But Snape is the scariest man he’s ever met — besides Voldemort — and he just revealed that he’s… maybe not scared, but at least wary of Harry’s daddy… not his dad, but his daddy… 

 

”Harry”, Snape snaps and whirls around to face him; Harry cringes instinctively. ”Can you stand?”

 

”Y-Yeah”, Harry mutters and gets to his feet. 

 

Once he’s standing, he feels strangely lopsided. He swallows thickly and avoids looking down, but he feels his arm dangle heavily along his side. Don’t throw up, don’t faint and don’t throw up, he wills himself. 

 

”Let’s go”, Snape says shortly. 

 

He curls his arm around Harry’s shoulders and steers him off the pitch. Draco hurries to keep up with them and stays close to Harry’s side all the way to the Hospital Wing. 

 

Madam Pomfrey is almost as furious as Snape had been. She holds up the sad, limp remainder of Harry’s right arm and it flops unnervingly in her grasp as she shakes it. Harry feels sick again and squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing bile. 

 

”You should have come straight to me!” Madam Pomfrey rages. ”I can mend bones in a heartbeat! But _growing them back_ —!”

 

”You will be able to, won’t you?” Harry gasps desperately and opens his eyes again, staring at her hopefully. 

 

”Of course _I’ll be able to_ ”, the woman says grimly and lets his arm go again, dumping a pair of pyjamas on top of his lap. ”But it will be painful… You’ll have to stay the night.”

 

She wheels around and marches back into her office to give him some privacy, and Draco helps Harry into the pyjamas. It takes a while to get the rubbery, boneless arm through the shirt sleeve, but finally, Harry is dressed for bed and flops back down on it with a sigh. The de-boned arm flaps pointlessly next to him. 

 

Draco perches on the side of the bed and watches him with a worried frown, nibbling his lower lip anxiously. 

 

”It’s okay, Draco”, Harry sighs. ”It doesn’t hurt anymore…”

 

”Yet”, Draco corrects him quietly. 

 

 _Oh, that’s right,_ Harry thinks sourly, remembering what Madam Pomfrey had said. He lets out a tired huff. Why is it always him?

 

Madam Pomfrey comes marching back, holding a large bottle of something labelled ’Skele-Gro’ and pours out a steaming beakerful of it and hands to Harry. 

 

”You’re in for a rough night, m’boy… Re-growing bones is a nasty business.”

 

So is taking Skele-Gro, it turns out. Harry gulps down half the beaker in one go and immediately splutters as it burns his mouth and throat going down. Madam Pomfrey tuts and rolls her eyes, and then to Harry’s chagrine she leaves the bottle on his nightstand before she retreats into her office again. 

 

”It tastes foul”, Harry mumbles. 

 

Draco gives him a sympathetic look and pats his knee awkwardly. 

 

Suddenly, they hear echoing footsteps outside the doors and Harry’s heart skips a beat as he recognises his daddy’s furious voice, ” _Where is he? Where is my son?_ ”

 

A second later, the doors slam open and Remus and Sirius storm inside the Hospital Wing, followed by Professor Snape who keeps a safe distance from both of them but his eyes on Remus in particular, Harry is surprised to notice. 

 

”Harry!” Remus exclaims and runs over to his bed. 

 

Draco barely has time to jump aside before the man has thrown himself over Harry and enveloped  him in a tight hug. 

 

” _What did I tell you_?” he growls, his voice slightly muffled since he’s got his face buried in Harry’s neck. ”You were _not_ to make a habit of this!”

 

”S-Sorry!” Harry gasps as the man tightens his arms around him even further. ”Daddy, you’re crushing me —!”

 

”Oh! Sorry!” Remus yelps and immediately eases his hold and sits back, but keeps pawing Harry and petting his hair. ”Harry, you _promised_ you’d be careful — your dad and I worry about you enough as it is!”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry says again. ”But daddy, it was just Quidditch…”

 

”Well, I want a word with your team captain”, Remus says firmly. ”And Hooch. And the _professor_ who did this to your arm!”

 

The way he spits out the word professor suggests to Harry that his daddy doesn’t think anyone who accidentally removes all the bones from his son’s right arm has any right to call themselves that, and Harry actually inclined to agree. 

 

”This is the same man who made you pretend to be a werewolf, isn’t it?” he growls. 

 

”Ehm, yeah”, Harry mumbles, wondering how that’s relevant in the light of what’s happened to his arm.

 

”He what?” Professor Snape says sharply. 

 

”He always makes me —”

 

”A werewolf he then _cured_ with a _simple spell_ ”, Remus snaps darkly, clearly not paying attention to what Harry is saying at all. 

 

”Now, now, Moony”, Sirius says soothingly. ”We talked about this, remember? Let’s leave the DADA professor for Dumbledore to deal with, yeah?”

 

Remus growls something low under his breath, then decides to help himself to another Harry-hug and that seems to finally calm him down. 

 

Harry feels a steadily growing pain start shooting through his boneless arm and winces. Remus immediately loosens his embrace, ”Oh I’m sorry, was I crushing you again?”

 

”N-No”, Harry gasps. ”My arm… Hurts again…”

 

Remus tightens his embrace again and gives him a weak groan of sympathy as he starts to pet his head. 

 

”Hey, at least you caught the Snitch, Harry — that’s amazing!” Sirius says and Harry can practically hear the grin in his voice and chuckles weakly. ”I knew you would!”

 

”Sirius”, Remus warns. 

 

”Oh, come on! Our boy’s a star today, Moony — we can’t take that away from him, just because he’s hurting — then he’s hurting for nothing!”

 

”He _is_ hurting for nothing!” Remus snaps and sits back to glare at his husband over his shoulder. 

 

”You know what I mean…” Sirius wheedles. 

 

”Tactful as always, Black”, Professor Snape mutters. 

 

”You stay out of it, Snivellus!” Sirius barks back. 

 

With a bang, the office door flies open and Madam Pomfrey comes storming out. 

 

”That’s enough! This boy needs rest! Everybody out! OUT!”

 

Professor Snape grabs Draco by the arm and hurries out of the wing and Sirius quickly backs a few steps as well when the woman gives him a stern look. Remus is the only one who stays where he is, still petting Harry soothingly. 

 

Madam Pomfrey turns to them and her face softens immediately. 

 

”How’s he holding up, Remus?”

 

”Not to good, I think the Skele-Gro just started to kick in…” Remus murmurs and gives Harry a sad smile. ”But he’s a strong boy, he’ll be okay…”

 

”Oh, I don’t doubt it”, Madam Pomfrey says and gives Harry a rare smile. 

 

”Well, Harry, we’ll let you get your rest”, Remus says and stands up finally. ”Owl us in the morning and let us know you’re well, okay? And if there’s anything — anything at all — that makes you uncomfortable in class from now on, you tell Professor Snape, all right?”

 

”Y-Yeah, all right…”

 

”Okay, bye pup…” Remus says softly and bends down for one last hug. 

 

Sirius quickly sidles up to them and steals a hug as well, then quickly backs away with a wary look in Madam Pomfrey’s direction. 

 

Harry waves goodbye at them with his good hand and as soon as the doors close behind them, he lets his heavy eyelids fall shut and drifts into an uneasy sleep… 

 

Hours and hours later, he awakes again with a start and blinks out into the sudden darkness of the Hospital Wing, swallowing a gasp of pain. His arm doesn’t feel hollow and rubbery anymore, but full of painful splinters. For a moment, he thinks that’s what woke him up, but with a thrill of terror he realises that he’s not actually alone, but there is someone next to him in the darkness… Someone who is sponging his forehead…

 

”Gerroff!” he says and jerks his head away. 

 

Then blinking and squinting, as his eyes grow used to the dark, he finally sees a familiar set of batlike ears and goggling tennis-ball eyes peering back at him. 

 

” _You_!” he gasps. 

 

”Harry Potter came back to school”, the house-elf whispers miserably and a single tear escapes one of the huge eyes and slides down the long, pointed nose. ”I is warning and warning Harry Potter, Sir and still he came back to school… Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train? Why did he not heed Dobby’s warning? Why —?”

 

But Harry barely heard anything the elf said after _missed the train_ —

 

”Wait, what did you say?” he demands. ”How’d you know I missed the train?”

 

The house-elf’s lips begin to tremble and his huge tennis-ball eyes fill up more tears, but Harry struggles up to sitting and roughly pushes the sponge away from him. It lands on the floor with a wet slap. 

 

”It was you! _You_ stopped the barrier letting us through!”

 

”Indeed, Sir”, the house-elf confirms, nodding his head vigorously, his ears flapping and tears spilling all over his small face. ”I is hiding and waiting for Harry Potter to arrive and sealing the gateway — I is having to iron my hands afterwards —”

 

He holds out his small hands and Harry notices the bandages for the first time. A twinge of pity flares up inside him, enough the quell his anger a little and he slumps back against his pillow with a sigh. 

 

”— but I is not caring, Sir! Because I is thinking Harry Potter is safe, and that’s all that matters! I is never dreaming that Harry Potter would get to school another way — when I is hearing that Harry Potter is back at Hogwarts, I is so shocked I let master’s dinner burn — such a flogging I is never had before —”

 

”Look, my arm’s killing me, I can’t deal with you right now”, Harry mutters.

 

”Harry Potter _must_ go home! I is thinking my Bludger would be enough to make —”

 

” _Your_ bludger!” Harry says, anger rising once more. ”What do you mean _your_ bludger? _You_ made that bludger try to kill me?”

 

”Not kill you, Sir, never kill you!” the house-elf says, shocked. ”Just injure, enough to be sent home!”

 

”Oh, is that all?” Harry snaps furiously. ”And I don’t suppose you’ll tell me _why_ you wanted me sent home _in pieces_?”

 

”Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!” the house-elf groans dramatically. ”If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world! When He Who Must Not Be Named was at the height of his power, of we house-elves were treated like vermin, Sir! Of course, I is still being treated like vermin… But mostly, Sir, life has improved for my kind since Harry Potter stopped He Who Must Not Be Named —”

 

 _Voldemort_ , Harry wants to snap, just to unsettle the annoying elf, but part of Harry shivers just thinking about the name. 

 

”— And not, at Hogwarts, terrible things are about to happen, are perhaps happening already, and I cannot let Harry Potter stay here bnow that history is to repeat itself, and the Chamber of Secrets is open once more —”

 

The elf stops himself short suddenly, and looks horror-struck for a split second before he snatches the bottle of Skele-Gro from Harry’s bedside table and whacks himself in the head with it. The blow knocks him off balance and he topples to the floor. 

 

”Repeat itself? You mean this has happened before?” Harry calls after him. 

 

The house-elf re-appears next to the bed and climbs back onto it. Harry inches back and frowns at the creature as more tears roll down its cheeks. 

 

”I’m not Muggle-born, you realise?”

 

”I know”, the house-elf mumbles, rubbing his head. 

 

”So — how can I be in danger —?”

 

”Ah, Sir, ask no more, ask no more”, the elf stammers, staring back at him in horror. ”Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter, please go home! Harry Potter must not meddle in this, Sir, it is too dangerous —”

 

Harry grabs the elf’s tiny wrist in a firm grip, to keep him away from the Skele-Gro or any other blunt object. 

 

”Who is it? Who opened the Chamber, and who opened it last time? I know you know, _tell me_!”

 

”I can’t tell you, Sir! I can’t! Just go home, Harry Potter, go home!”

 

”I’m not going anywhere!” Harry says fiercely. ”Now tell me what you know —!”

 

The elf freezes suddenly, his bat ears quivering. Harry looks up into the darkness — he can hear it too — approaching footsteps… 

 

”I must go”, the house-elf whispers, terrified; then there’s a loud _crack_ and Harry is clutching thin air. 

 

Harry bites down on a curse and quickly slumps back against his pillow, just as the doors to the Hospital Wing fly open and light spills inside. Harry curls up on his side, pretending to sleep, but squints his eyes open slightly, peering at the people entering the wing. 

 

The man backing inside, Harry realises with a jolt, is Headmaster Dumbledore and he’s wearing a long dressing gown and what appears to be a nightcap. He is also carrying one end of what looks like a statue. Seconds later, Professor McGonagall appears in the doorway, carrying the staue’s feet.

 

They walk over to the nearest bed and heaves the statue onto it. 

 

”Get Madam Pomfrey”, Dumbledore whispers. 

 

Professor McGongall quickly sweaps past Harry’s bed and disappears out of sight, only to return moments later with an anxious-looking Madam Pomfrey close on her heels. They join Dumbledore at the other bed and Harry can hear a sharp intake of breath as Madam Pomfrey reaches it. 

 

”What happened?” she whispers, horrified. 

 

”Another attack”, Dumbledore says. ”Minerva found him on the stairs.”

 

With a horrible sinking feeling, Harry peers over at the statue on the bed — except it’s not a statue at all, he realises — it’s the gryffindor Colin Creevy. 

 

”There was a bunch of grapes next to him”, Professor McGonagall says. ”We think he was trying to sneak in to visit Potter.”

 

”Petrified?” Madam Pomfrey whispers. 

 

”Yes… But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate, who knows what might have…”

 

Professor Dumbledore leaned down and prised Colin’s camera out of his petrified hands. 

 

”You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” McGonagall says eagerly. 

 

Dumbledore doesn’t answer, but opens up the back of the camera. 

 

”Good gracious!” Madam Pomfrey gasps as a jet of steam hisses out of the camera and even from three beds away Harry can smell burnt plastic. ”Melted… all melted…”

 

”What does this _mean_ , Albus?” McGonagall says. 

 

”It means… That the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again…”

 

”But Albus… surely… I mean, _who_ —?”

 

”The question is not _who_ ”, Dumbledore corrects calmly, still staring down at Colin’s face. ”The question is _how_ …”

 

Harry frowns to himself in the darkness as the three adults finally leave and he’s left alone with the petrified form of poor Colin Creevy… What was that supposed to mean, it’s not a question of _whom_ but _how_? Does that mean Dumbledore _knows who_ has opened the Chamber? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update! 
> 
> I think Adrian Pucey might be a Chaser or a Beater, but I made him a Keeper in my world. Just so I could have that little tiff between him and Flint in the Great Hall (my slashy mind got an idea about those two and ran with it...) 
> 
> Also, I know McLaggen tries out for the Keeper position in his seventh year and that he couldn't try out at all in his sixth year. But it's never mentioned if he was on the team before that, so I figured, if the Seeker position was the only available one this year, he might as well have gone for that and with Harry in Slytherin, he would be a good alternative since he's a good flier and has got quick reflexes... So yeah. That was the thought process behind that choice. In case you were wondering.


	11. Duelling Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!

When Harry awakes for a second time, pale wintry sunlight is streaming through the high windows of the Hospital Wing. He fumbles with his glasses, the regrown bones in his right arm and hand stiff and prickly. Once the glasses are on his face, the other beds come into focus around him and Harry turns to peer over at Colin Creevy, but that particular bed is now hidden behind curtains. 

 

Madam Pomfrey comes bustling out of her office with a breakfast tray and Harry awkwardly starts in on the scrambled eggs with his left hand, while she examines his right. 

 

”Excellent”, she says after she’s squeezed and prodded it for a good ten minutes. ”All better. After you’ve finished your breakfast, you may leave, Potter.”

 

Harry nods his thanks. He wonders if he should ask about the curtained bed, so as not to make the matron suspiscious that he eavesdropped earlier in the morning. But before he’s made his mind up, the woman has bustled back into her office again. 

 

He finishes his eggs and toast quickly, then changes out of his pyjamas and back into his muddy quidditch robes before making his way to the Slytherin common room. He can’t wait to tell Draco everything he’s found out during the night. 

 

It turns out that, despite it being Sunday, the news of Colin Creevy having been attacked and now lying as though dead in the hospital wing has managed to reach the Slytherins — and probably the other houses as well, Harry figures — but that the Chamber has been opened once before, none of the other second year boys had found out until Harry reveals it later in the dormitory. 

 

”You’re kidding?” Seamus says breathlessly. ”You actually heard Dumbledore say that?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says seriously. ”And it sounded like he knew who’s behind it…”

 

”Who?” Draco says immediately. 

 

”He didn’t say. He was being his usual kooky self.”

 

The other boys roll their eyes in acknowledgement. 

 

”Hey, Draco”, Blaise says. ”Didn’t you say your father knew about the Chamber?”

 

”Yeah, so?” the blonde mutters a little defensively. ”He wouldn’t tell me anything about it…”

 

”Maybe you should ask him again. See if he knows anything about what happened last time it was opened.”

 

”That won’t work…” Draco mumbles uncomfortably. ”You don’t know my father, he refuses to answer questions… the only way you’re going to get anything out of him is if you make him forget you’re actually there and then, if you’re lucky, he might let something slip.”

 

Harry gives the blonde a sympathetic smile and leans into him a little, so their shoulders bump together. Draco gives him a quick glance, acknowledging the contact but not smiling back. 

 

By Monday morning, the rumors about Creevy’s attack has definitely spread across the whole school. Everywhere they go, Harry is followed by relentless chorus of whispers and just like the weeks after the attack on Mrs Norris, he is once again the target of suspiscious and scared stares. 

 

_Like that one,_ he thinks bitterly as Ron’s little sister Ginny comes walking round the corner at the other end of the corridor and stops dead in her tracks when she sees him. He wonders if there’s even a point giving her a friendly smile, or if that will just terrify her even more. 

 

Suddenly, what appears to be two monsters jump out from behind a statue and land in front of the already petrified first year and she lets out a shrill scream and drops the book she’d been hugging to her chest. 

 

”Just us!” one of the furry creatues exclaims and Harry immediately recognises the voice of either Fred or George Weasley. 

 

Ginny gives them a furious look and fumbles with shaking hands to retrieve her book from the floor, then spins on her heel and runs out of sight. 

 

The twins seem to deflate slightly, turning their furry faces towards each other and shrugging. Harry feels a surge of fondness for them and smiles. 

 

”Hey guys!” he says and starts walking again. 

 

The twins turn around to face him as he approaches and he can see their green eyes light up in the middle of all that fur. 

 

”Harry!” one of them exclaims. ”Hey, great catch — that was a well-deserved win!”

 

”Thanks”, Harry smiles. ”So what’s with the… fur?”

 

”Oh, this?” the other twin says casually. ”Just a potion we’ve been working on… We were trying to cheer Ginny up, she’s been really upset since we all found out about Colin — they sit next to each other in Charms — but it didn’t seem to work as we’d expected…”

 

”Maybe it’s the fur”, the other twin muses. ”We should try the other potion instead.”

 

”What the boils? Yeah, you might be onto something there. Harry, what do you think? Fur or boils, what’s funnier?”

 

”Ehm… I don’t really — Eh — Boils, I guess?”

 

”Good one”, one of the furry boys told his twin. 

 

With a distracted _See you, Harry_ they hurry off to put their new plan into motion and Harry watches them go with an amused smirk. It was nice to know there were still someone in this castle, besides his closest friends, who weren’t dead scared of him. 

 

*

 

The third week of December a new notice appears on the noticeboard in the common room and Harry and Draco walk out of the dormitory and join the other students already gathered in front of it, murmuring in excitement. 

 

”What’s going on?” Harry asks Seamus who is standing on tiptoes and craning his neck to get a look at the noticeboard over Blaise’s shoulder. 

 

”Oh, hey, Harry, Draco”, the Irish boy says, glancing over at them. ”They’re starting a Duelling Club!”

 

”A duelling club?” Draco repeats with interest and smoothly weaves his way to the front of the small crowd to read the notice for himself. 

 

”First meeting tonight”, Blaise informs Seamus and Harry. ”I wouldn’t mind going. Some duelling lessons might come in handy one of these days…”

 

”You reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?” Seamus quips. 

 

Blaise gives him a withering look. 

 

”Who cares”, Pansy speaks up from behind Harry. ”It’s not like any of us are in danger, anyway… I mean, we’re in his _house_!”

 

Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes, but makes sure to avoid looking in the girl’s direction. Draco comes weaving his way back to them and confirms what Blaise has already told them. 

 

”Did it say who’s giving the lessons?” Harry asks. 

 

”No”, Draco says with a frown. ”But still… Can’t hurt to have a look, right?”

 

”Yeah, I guess…”

 

Later in the evening, at eight o’clock to be exact, the boys make their way back to the Great Hall to find the four dining tables gone and replaced by a long, golden stage lit by thousands of candles floating above it. 

 

”I wonder who’ll be teaching us?” they hear Granger ask a few feet away. 

 

Harry glances over, accidentally locking eyes with Ron who is standing next to the frizzy-haired witch. 

 

”Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it’ll be him”, Granger continues, unaware that Ron is busy returning Harry’s pinched smile.

 

Suddenly, the redhead’s gaze flickers from Harry’s and finds a point over his shoulder instead. His smile falters immediately and his ears go bright red. Harry frowns as the other boy quickly looks away, and turns around to find Draco glaring at the Gryffindors. Harry gives him an exasperated look.

 

”How many times do I have to tell you”, he mutters. 

 

”I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Draco says immediately, then sniffs haughtly and looks away.

 

”Gather round, gather round —!”

 

Harry’s stomach plummets and he groans, turning towards the golden stage where Gilderoy Lockhart is now waving an arm and grinning like a lunatic. 

 

”Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent —!”

 

”Can we leave?” Harry hisses, close to Draco’s ear. 

 

”Wait”, Draco murmurs, his lips twitching. ”This might get interesting…”

 

Harry gives him a questioning look, but the blonde merely nods towards the stage. Harry looks over again, and this time he feels his spirit soar slightly again, because Lockhart has now been joined by none other than _Professor Snape_ and Harry is pleasantly surprised to find his black and white presence next to Lockhart’s plum-coloured robes and golden curls quite comforting. 

 

Whatever Lockhart might subject Harry to, at least Professor Snape will be able to sort it out again. Not to mention, they might actually get to see Snape beat the obnoxious prat in a real wizard’s duel.

 

”Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourself, as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works — Now, let me introduce my _assistant_ , Professor Snape!”

 

Harry can see Professor Snape’s lip curling already. _Oh, this is going to be brilliant!_

 

”Okay, we can stay…” he murmurs. 

 

Draco gives him a knowing look and smirks coolly.

 

”Snape tells me he knows a _tiny little bit_ about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin”, Lockhart continues. ”Now, I don’t want you youngsters to worry! You’ll still have your Potions Master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

 

Harry lets out an incredulous huff as Lockhart gives them all one of his biggest grins and winks at some random student in the crowd; if Professor Snape was looking at _him_ like that, Harry would not be smiling… He’d be running in the opposite direction!

 

Lockhart and Snape turn to face each other on the stage and Lockhart gives a deep bow, twirling his arms extravagantly as he does so. Snape glares, then gives him a terse little nod back. There is an excited murmur amongst the students and a few titters. Snape shoots the crowd a sweeping glance of pure venom, and the Hall is dead quiet after that. 

 

Harry and Draco exchange an excited look.

 

”As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position”, Lockhart states. 

 

Harry turns back to the stage. Both professors are indeed brandishing their wands like swords in front of them. 

 

”On the count of three we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course!”

 

”Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, Harry murmurs and Draco snickers quietly. 

 

”One — two — three —”

 

” _Expelliarmus_!” Snape roars clearly, swinging his wand around and over his head and a flash of scarlet light shoots out of the tip of it and hits Lockhart straight in the chest. 

 

The students get a quick glimpse of the stunned look on the man’s face before he disappears from view behind the stage, Snape’s spell having literally knocked him off his feet. 

 

” _Oh, wow!_ ” Harry laughs. ”That was brilliant!”

 

Lockhart’s head pops up from behind the stage again, his wavy blonde hair now standing on end, his hat nowhere to be seen. Another laugh bubbles up in Harry and he has to press his fist against his mouth to keep it in. 

 

”Well, there you have it”, Lockhart says shakily and heaves himself up on the stage again, staggering slightly before regaining his confident stance. ”That was a Disarming Charm —”

 

”I have to learn that”, Harry mutters excitedly and Draco nods in agreement. 

 

”— as you can see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, yes an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do and if I _had_ wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy! However, I felt it would be instructive to let the students see…”

 

”Oh, he did _not_ just say that…” Draco whispers, staring wide-eyed between the grinning Lockhart and the now murderous-looking Snape. ”Now Severus will _definitely_ kill him…”

 

Lockhart seems to have noticed the same thing however, because he quickly declares the demonstration to be over and instructs the students to get into pairs so that they can practise the Disarming Charm for themselves. 

 

”Want to pair up?” Harry asks Draco. 

 

”Sure”, the blonde says, blushing a little.

 

”Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you”, Harry murmurs with a wink. 

 

Draco gives him a half-hearted glare and huffs. 

 

”Face your partners!” Lockhart shouts from the stage. 

 

Draco’s blush deepens, but so does his glare. Harry frowns, wondering why the blonde would get angry with him — _it was only a joke!_

 

”Wands at the ready!”

 

Draco snaps his wand up in front of him, the almost black wood cutting his pale face into two scowling halves. Harry quickly mirrors him, his stomach churning with unease. 

 

”When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent — _only_ to disarm them — we don’t want any accidents. One… two… three…”

 

Harry swings his arm around like Snape did, but before he has a chance to bring it down again, a jet of silver light shoots out of Draco’s wand and hits him hard in his side and he doubles over. His wand slips out of his grip and clatters to the floor, but he quickly manages to grab it again before it rolls away. The _Rictumsempra_ charm Draco hit him with spreads through his body like rolling waves of unrelenting, torturous electric torrents of tickles and he gasps around his uncontrollable laughter. 

 

”I said disarm only!” Lockhart’s voice rings out in the sudden ruckus in the Hall. 

 

Harry grabs his wand hard flicks it up towards Draco and chokes out the only spell he can think of, Tarantallegra, and watches in satisfaction as the blonde starts tap dancing jerkily on the spot. 

 

”Stop! Stop!” Lockhart screams. 

 

” _Finite Incantatem_!” Snape roars. 

 

The tickling charm leaves Harry’s system just as suddenly as it hit and Harry gets to his feet unsteadily, taking deep, wheezing breaths and blinking tears from his eyes. Batting them off his cheeks quickly before anyone sees. 

 

A haze of greenish smoke hovers over the Hall and several students are struggling to get to their feet just as Harry had done. Seamus is giving Blaise a hand, babbling frantic apologies and attempting to flatten the other boy’s uncharacteristically wild hair. Blaise quickly bats his hand away and shoots him a glare while wiping soot from his face with the sleeves of his robes. 

 

”Dear, dear”, Lockhart says, weaving through the crowd, his anxious eyes skittering over the students. ”Up you get, Macmillan… careful there, Miss Fawcett… pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot… Oh dear, well, I think I had better teach you all how to _block_ unfriendly spells… Let’s have a volunteer pair”, he adds quickly after a hopeful glance in Snape’s direction was met with a venomous sneer. ”Longbottom and Weasley, how about you?”

 

”A bad idea, Professor Lockhart”, Snape murmurs maliciously and glides over to the other man. ”Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Mr Weasley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox… How about a couple of students from my own house… Potter, Malfoy!”

 

Harry and Draco exchange a glance, but Draco quickly looks away again. Harry feels his stomach churn again. _I don’t know what I’ve done wrong…_

 

”Excellent idea!” Lockhart says and gestures for the rest of the crowd to clear a good space in the middle of the Hall to give them room. 

 

”Now, Harry”, he says, pushing and pulling on him until he’s standing in the perfect spot. ”When Draco points his wand at you, you do _this —_ ”

 

He starts swirling his wand around in a ridiculously complicated fashion and suddenly drops it. It clatters to the floor and Harry bends down to pick it up and hands it back to him. 

 

”Whoops”, Lockhart says and grins as if he didn’t just make a huge fool of himself in front of everyone and Harry stares incredulously at him. ”My wand is a little over-excited!”

 

Snape smirks, then turns to Draco and murmurs something. Harry frowns, glancing uncertainly at Lockhart. _Is it even worth it to ask for another demonstration? Even if he manages to the wand movement without dropping his wand, it probably isn’t a proper move anyway…_

 

He decides to try and do what Snape did when he disarmed Lockhart instead. 

 

”Ready boys?” Lockhart says. ”Three — two — one — and _go_!”

 

” _Serpensortia_!” Draco bellows quickly. 

 

Harry gasps as the blonde’s wand seems to explode, hurriedly steeling himself for the assault, but nothing happens… But the crowd gasps and a few students even scream and whimper. Harry frowns in confusion, but then he looks down and sees it… a long black snake slithers towards him on the floor. Harry blinks. 

 

”Don’t move, Potter”, Snape says lazily and strides forward. ”I’ll get rid of it…”

 

”Allow me!” Lockhart shouts excitedly and Harry’s heart stutters — _No_ —

 

But before he can even open his mouth to protest, Lockhart has shouldered past him and blasted the snake several feet into the air. But instead of vanishing, it lands heavily on the floor again and doesn’t look too happy about it either… It raises itself up and opens its jaws wide and hisses furiously… Disorientated and enraged, it turns on the nearest student, who happens to be a paralysed-looking Justin Finch-Fletchly, and bares its sharp fangs —

 

”No”, Harry mumbles. ”Don’t…”

 

And as if pulled by some invisible force, he feels himself move forward, closer to the snake and by some weird miracle, the snake seems to stop its attack and hesitate, turning its head towards Harry, distracted by his sudden proximity probably… 

 

”It’s okay”, Harry murmurs soothingly. ”Just calm down…”

 

The snake slowly shuts its huge mouth again and slumps back to the floor. Harry feels a surge of relief. He looks up at Finch-Fletchly, grinning and expecting to see a similar expression mirrored in the other boy’s face. But instead, the boy stares at him just like that time in the courtyard. Harry’s grin quickly falls. 

 

”What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” the hufflepuff boy squeals before doubling out of the hall. 

 

”What —?”

 

”Don’t move, Harry.”

 

He wheels around and sees Snape stride up to him and vanishing the snake with a simple flick of his wand, before turning to the crowd and bellowing, ”Duelling Club is over, everyone back to their dormitories! Now! — _Not_ you, Potter —”

 

Harry stumbles to a halt again and looks up at his Head of House uncertainly, but Snape doesn’t meet his gaze at all. Instead he silently urges the rest of the students on with one of his sternest glares. Draco is the only one who resists it and stays, shuffling worriedly on the spot. 

 

”You too, Draco. Harry will join you shortly, go wait for him in the dormitory”, Snape says. 

 

Draco only hesitates for a second, but then he quickly shuffles out of the Great Hall, leaving Harry alone with Snape and the weight in his chest. 

 

”Am I in trouble?” he says quietly. 

 

Snape’s eyes finally flickers down to meet his. He isn’t glaring anymore, not exactly. But Harry can’t really read his expression at all, and for some reason that feels worse. 

 

”Sir?” he adds. 

 

”No…”

 

”Then why —?”

 

”How long have you known?”

 

”What?”

 

”Have long have you known?” Snape repeats. 

 

”Known _what_?”

 

”That you’re a Parselmouth.”

 

”I’m a… _what_?”

 

Snape visibly takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling gently under all his black layers. 

 

”I — I don’t — _I’m a what_?”

 

”You’re a Parselmouth, Potter”, Snape says sharply. ”You didn’t know?”

 

”No”, Harry exclaims earnestly. ”What does that mean? I can — I can _talk_ to snakes? They can understand what I’m saying?”

 

”You are able to speak parseltongue, yes.”

 

”Parsel… _Parseltongue_? Wait, no — I don’t — I can’t — I wasn’t speaking a _different language_! I just told the snake to calm down! But it… it _did_ seem to understand me…”

 

”You told the snake to calm down?” Snape repeats quietly, his dark eyes glittering. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and frowns. ”You heard me. Didn’t you… Didn’t you _hear_ …?”

 

”All I heard was parseltongue. But that’s interesting. You really thought you were speaking English, you didn’t notice the shift at all?”

 

”No…”

 

”Very interesting. Have you ever talked to snakes before?”

 

”Not that I remember. Maybe when I was little. We get them in the garden in the summer and I used to try and catch them sometimes, before daddy caught me and told me to leave them alone… I don’t remember talking to them though…”

 

”You think your fathers know you’re a Parselmouth?”

 

”No, they would have told me. They don’t keep secrets from me.”

 

Snape raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Instead he starts striding towards the doors, his black robes billowing behind him. 

 

”I’ll walk you to the Common Room. Let’s go.”

 

”Sir?” Harry says tentatively as they’re descending the spiral staircase to the dungeons. ”How can I speak a language without knowing I can?”

 

”That is a very good question, Potter”, Snape says and then remains silent until they reach the secret doorway to the Slytherin Common Room. ”The others are surely waiting for you to tell them all about what happened tonight. I will return in exactly ten minutes to make sure everyone is in their dormitories, and anyone who _isn’t_ will get a week’s worth of detention. Make sure to pass that along to your friends. Good night, Potter.”

 

Harry watches Snape disappear into the shadows of the corridor and even after the man has been swallowed up by the darkness, he remains outside the common room, holding his breath and listening to the echoes of the man’s footsteps. He then takes a deep breath and whispers the password. The wall rearranges itself and allows him entrance. 

 

Just as Snape predicted, every slytherin who had attended the duelling club — and a few who hadn’t — are sitting around in the common room when Harry enters. They all start chattering excitedly when they see him, asking a hundred questions at once. 

 

”Snape says we’ll all get a week’s detention if we don’t go to bed”, Harry says loudly. ”Right now.”

 

There’s a murmur of disappointed mutters and sighs around the room. 

 

”Sorry, just passing on the message”, Harry says and shrugs, then quickly makes a beeline for the boys’ dormitory. 

 

Draco waits until the others have all gone to bed, then slips out from under his covers and sneaks into Harry’s bed with him. Harry’s heart skips a beat and his belly flutters as their bodies fit together on the suddenly small bed. 

 

”W-what are you doing?” Harry whispers. 

 

”Tell me what Severus wanted”, Draco whispers back, snuggling a little deeper into the mattrass, his hand brushing against Harry’s under the cover. 

 

Harry swallows thickly, his fingers twitching slightly with the tension of trying _not_ to move his hand away. 

 

”He wanted to know if I’d known — before tonight — that I’m a… uhm… a —”

 

”A Parselmouth”, Draco whispers breathlessly. 

 

”Yeah…”

 

”And did you?”

 

”No. I had no idea. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I mean I’ve heard of Parselmouths, I dunno where, but I’ve heard about them at some point, or read about them somewhere, but I just thought they were like snake charmers, you know? I didn’t know they speak _snake language_ …”

 

”Parseltongue.”

 

”Yeah. That. I hadn’t heard of _that_ before…”

 

”It’s kind of cool”, Draco whispers. 

 

Harry peers into his face for the first time. His silver eyes are glittering in the dim glow from the green lantern next to Harry’s bed and Harry’s belly flutters again. 

 

”I mean, it’s bad, but it’s also kind of cool that you are. It’s a very rare gift, you know…”

 

”Yeah? That’s cool — wait — what? Why’s it bad?”

 

”Well, now people will definitely think you’re, you know…”

 

”What?”

 

” _You know_ … Slytherin’s heir…”

 

”What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

”Severus didn’t tell you?” 

 

”Tell me what?”

 

”Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth too. He was famous for it. That’s why we have a serpent as a symbol… and, like I said, it’s a very rare gift, and it’s, you know… hereditary…”

 

”Of course it is”, Harry mutters, the butterflies in his belly turning to lead. 

 

”Now the whole school is going to think you’re his great-great-great-great-great —”

 

”Yeah, I get it.”

 

”— great-grandson.”

 

”Yeah, well, I’m not”, Harry mumbles churlishly. 

 

”How do you know?”

 

”What do you mean? Of course, I’m not!”

 

”He lived about a thousand years ago —”

 

”So? Both James and Lily were gryffindors and neither one of them could talk to snakes!”

 

”You know that for sure, do you?”

 

Harry feels a surge of annoyance and quickly pulls his hand away from Draco’s and slams it down on top of his chest instead, pretending to readjust the cover, then turns his face away.

 

”Sorry”, Draco mumbles after a moment’s tense silence, but Harry says nothing. 

 

After another tense moment, Draco leans in close and brushes a feathery kiss against Harry’s cheek before quickly slipping out of the bed again. Harry holds his breath and listens to the rustling of the covers as the other boy settles into his own bed again. 

 

”Good night”, he whispers quietly when he’s almost sure Draco has fallen asleep. 

 

 


	12. Snow and kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some feedback recently on an earlier chapter from a reader who felt this fic was sticking too closely to canon, and I just wanted to address that quickly; since I wanted to keep the main plots from the first two books, and those books are less complex when it comes to sub-plots than the others in the series, most of what happens in them is directly related to the main plots, which is why I've had to keep a lot from canon, but after CoS my fic will stray away a lot more from canon (the exceptions being Remus teaching and Harry getting entered into the Triwizard Tournament) I hope you guys are okay with that! If anyone has any thoughts on this, or other thoughts or requests even, I’d love to hear them in the comment section (I'm very open to feedback, but I won’t be bashing any characters!)

When the Slytherins ascend the stairs from the dungeons the next morning, all the windows are a dull white and when they step inside the Great Hall it becomes clear as to why; the enchanted ceiling is one gigantic white blur, mirroring the blizzard outside the castle. 

 

Despite all the stares and whispers, and Draco keeping a safe distance from him, Harry can’t help but feel a small jolt of joy at the sight all that _snow_! In just a week it will be Christmas and he gets to leave all this chaos behind him and go home to his dads!

 

Professor Snape strides down the aisle between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables and informs them that their Herbology lesson has been cancelled due to Professor Sprout needing to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a task she deems too tricky for the students to assist her with, especially now that the well-being of the mandrake roots is so important. 

 

”I suggest you use the time to go over your Potion essays an extra time”, Snape says curtly. ”I will not accept anything less than adequate, especially from the students of my own house.”

 

Harry hides his grin behind a goblet of pumpkin juice and nods dutifully when the professor turns to fix him with a narrowed glare. 

 

”Mr Potter…”

 

”Sir?”

 

”May I have a word with you — in private?”

 

Harry’s good mood deflates just as quickly as it had swelled and he slides out of his seat with a sigh and trails after his Head of House as he strides out of the Great Hall. 

 

Snape swirls around to face him once they reach the bottom of the marble staircase. 

 

”This isn’t about the potion essay, is it? Sir?” Harry mutters. 

 

Snape quirks an eyebrow, but pretends not to have heard his comment. Instead he makes a show of looking around to ensure no-one is within eavesdropping distance. 

 

”I am going to have to write to your fathers and inform them of the incident in Duelling Club”, he states once he’s satisfied himself of their privacy.  ”If you rather they hear it from you first, I suggest you send them an owl immediately.”

 

”But why”, Harry more or less whines. ”What’s the big deal? Just because I _happen_ to be a Parselmouth doesn’t mean I’m related to Slytherin!”

 

”It’s a very rare —”

 

”I know”, Harry grouses, then quickly adds a _Sir_ when the older man’s eyes narrow dangerously. 

 

”Kindly do not interrupt me, Mr Potter. Ever.”

 

”Sorry, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”I doubt very much that your newfound ability to speak parseltongue is any cause for alarm, but as your Head of House I am entrusted with your safetly and well-being whilst at Hogwarts and as such I am also obligated to inform your legal guardians of any abnormal incident involving yourself that might occur throughout the school year… Also, I rather they hear it from either of us, as opposed to through the Hogwarts grape vine.”

 

”Grape —?” Harry frowns in confusion. 

 

”Rumor mill.”

 

”Oh. Rumors. Yeah. You’re probably right, Sir… I’ll go write them a letter right now…”

 

”And don’t forget to look over your essay on the uses of Flobberworm Mucus in Potions. I don’t want you to leave to the last minute like you did with your last assignment.”

 

”How did you—?”

 

”Your handwriting was barely decipherable, it was clearly jotted down in a hurry — during breakfast, judging by the pumpkin juice droplet stains in the margins —”

 

”Okay, okay, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!” Harry mumbles, ducking his head to hide his burning cheeks. 

 

Glancing up quickly, he catches the slight quirk of Snape’s lips before he schools his face into his usual stony mask again and gives Harry a small nod of acknowledgement before stalking off towards the dungeons without another word, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

 

Harry considers going back into the Great Hall and finish his breakfast, but the thought of all those heads turning to stare at him… Hands pointing and covering whispering mouths… It was one thing entering with his group friends, but on his own… He rather go hungry! So instead he hoists his book bag onto his shoulder and makes his way towards the library. 

 

He finds a secluded corner and claims the only study table there for himself and spreads his books out. But first he grabs his quill and writes a short letter to his dads on a spare bit of parchment. Hedwig should come and find him when she realises he’s not in the Great Hall and he can give it to her then. While he waits, he gets his Potions essay out and gets to work re-writing it slowly and carefully, mindful of his handwriting. 

 

After half an hour, he can hear the library start to fill up with other students but the large row of bookcases that blocks him from view allows him the privacy to keep working without having to deal with looks or whispers. 

 

 _”… I told Justin to hide in our dormitory”_ , a boy’s voice pipes up on the other side of the bookcase and Harry pauses with his quill hovering over the parchment, listening. _”I mean to say, if Potter’s marked him down as his next victim, it’s best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he’d been down for Eton. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s heir on the loose, is it?”_

 

A big drop of ink falls from the tip of Harry’s quill and splatters onto his Potions essay and he swears quietly, moving the quill away from the parchment. His hands are trembling, he realises. For some reason that makes him even angrier, and he glares at the row of books separating him from the anonymous Hufflepuff running his mouth…

 

 _”You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?”_ an anxious girl’s voice squeaks. 

 

 _”Hannah”_ , the boy Ernie says solemnly. _”He’s a_ Parselmouth. _Everyone knows that’s the mark of a really Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes?_ Come on… _Also, don’t you think it’s weird that his real parents were both_ Gryffindors _and he grew up with_ Gryffindor stepparents _and yet_ he _got sorted into Slytherin? Think about it…”_

 

Harry’s quill snaps in two; he swears again and flings the pieces away from him. They skid over the table and fall over the edge.

 

 _”He seems kind of nice though, you know, for a Slytherin…”_ the girl, Hannah, says uncertainly. _”And I mean, he did make You-Know-Who disappear, didn’t he? So he can’t be all bad, right?”_

 

 _”No-one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who”,_ Ernie says in a dramatically hushed voice. _”I mean to say, he was just a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens… only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that… Think about it, that’s probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place! He wanted to get rid of the_ competition _before Potter grew up —!”_

 

Harry slams his books and parchments together and shoves them into his bag hurriedly. His hands are shaking and his chest feels tight. He pushes himself to his feet and stalks around the side of the bookcase. 

 

The sight that greets him on the other side would have made him laugh, if he wasn’t so angry. A small group of second year Hufflepuffs sit huddled together and all turn to stare at him in horror, the colour draining from their faces rapidly. He plasters a fake grin onto his face and fixes the boy sitting in the middle with an intense stare. 

 

”You Ernie?” he asks. 

 

The boy’s eyes widen further and he starts to stammer something about his family being at least nine generations of witches and warlocks. 

 

”I don’t care how pure your blood is!” Harry snaps angrily. 

 

”W-Well, I’m j-just l-letting you know, in case you g-get any ideas—!”

 

”I didn’t attack anyone!” Harry snarls. ”I’m not the Heir—!”

 

”We were all in the Duelling Club, we saw you attack Justin with our own eyes!”

 

”I didn’t attack him! I got the snake to back off!” Harry yells. ”You know what… Believe whatever you want!”

 

He spins around and, ignoring the stares from the other students and the disapproving glare from Madam Pince, he storms out of the library. Harry swings the book bag onto his shoulder and it knocks against the small of his back hard enough to brusie, but Harry doesn’t care. In fact, he almost welcomes the dull throbbing… It gives him something else to focus on, something other than the fury that’s coiling inside him like some aggravated snake getting ready to strike —

 

 _No!_ he thinks furiously. _Don’t think about snakes! What’s wrong with you!_

 

 _Relax_ , he tells himself sharply. _They can’t read your mind, they’ll never know —_

 

Harry stops abruptly. _Great… Now I’m talking to myself. Maybe I_ am _going mad…_

 

He swallows down a yell of frustration and starts walking quickly again, barely even paying attention to where he’s going — it doesn’t matter, it just feels good to be _moving_ — he just needs to _get away_ somehow, as if he can outrun his own thoughts…

 

He turns a corner and walks straight into something big and solid. It knocks him backwards and he sits down heavily on the floor, his book bag slipping off his shoulder and regurgitating books all around him.

 

His bottom throbbing with another budding bruise, Harry feels his fury spike again but forces it back down and takes a deep breath and starts gathering up his books.

 

”Hello, Hagrid”, he mutters, as politely as he can manage under the circumstances. 

 

The half-giant’s face is entirely hidden behind a snow-caked balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else…

 

”All righ’, Harry?” Hagrid says, his voice muffled until he pulls the balaclava up. ”Why aren’t yeh in class?”

 

”Cancelled”, Harry says shortly and gingerly gets to his feet again. 

 

”Cancelled, eh? So yeh’re enjoying some free time, eh?”

 

”Not exactly”, Harry mutters. 

 

He suddenly catches sight of a dead rooster dangling from one of Hagrid’s massive hands and recoils so suddenly he trips backwards and loses his footing again.

 

”Second one killed this term”, Hagrid says solemnly and holds up the thing so Harry can get a better look — _as if I’d want to_ , Harry thinks incredulously and scrunches up his nose. ”It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an’ I need the Headmaster’s permission ter put a charm round the hen-coop—”

 

 _I’m definitely going to bruise_ , Harry thinks sourly as he gets up for the second time.

 

”Hey, yeh sure yeh’re all righ’ Harry? Yeh look a little—”

 

”It’s nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Look, I need to be going — erm — I need to get to the owlery before Transfiguration, but eh… Yeah… I’ll — eh — see you around, I guess…”

 

”Yeah, see yeh, Harry! Yeh be good now!” Hagrid’s booming voice follows Harry as he hurries off again. 

 

He can’t help but to wonder why Dumbledore has hired the half-giant if he doesn’t even trust him to put a protective spell on the hen house without checking with the headmaster first… Come to think of it, Harry has never seen the half-giant do any magic. He always just assumed that he was a squib, like Filch. But maybe he _can_ do magic, he’s not _allowed to_ … 

 

Frowning to himself, Harry wonders what it would take for a wizard to be forbidden to do magic, if he just didn’t pass his NEWTS or… _Worse…_  

 

Harry shakes his head. _Whatever, who cares…_ Even though he had basically said the first thing he could think of, just to get away from the gamekeeper and that stinky rooster, he really does need to get to the owlery before class, so he sets off back towards the Entrance Hall with a sense of purpose.

 

Hedwig isn’t in the owlery, so Harry chooses one of the school owls instead and carefully ties the rolled up letter to his dads to its leg. 

 

”Sorry I don’t have a treat for you”, he tells the greying barn-owl. ”I’m sure my daddy will give you something though.”

 

The barn-owl blinks slowly at him, as if to say _I don’t need incentive to do my job, thank you!_

 

Harry smirks to himself. _I’m defintiely going insane._

 

Looking at his watch, Harry realises he really will be late for Transfiguration despite the free period and swears loudly. He grabs his book bag and starts running down the stairs from the owlery, taking the steps two at a time and almost slipping on an icy patch. 

 

The corridors are empty and quiet. Everyone is in class already. Harry picks up his pace. He thunders up the marble stairs and skids sideways along the alcove as he’s turning, but manages to keep his momentum.

 

He hurtles along another corridor that is unusually dark — all the torches having been extinguised somehow — but it doesn’t matter, Harry has made his way from the Entrance Hall to the Transfiguration classroom countless of times, he could find his way blindfolded — 

 

 _Maybe not,_ he thinks as his right foot catches on something on the floor suddenly and sends him flying headfirst to the ground. The air is knocked out of his lungs and he gasps and coughs. _What the Hell…_ He quickly sits up and looks around — 

 

 _No,_ he thinks faintly… _Not that…_ Stomach plummeting, he can do nothing but stare… A body lies rigid and cold as though dead on the floor next to him. It’s Justin Finch-Fletchly, with a look of utter terror frozen on his face, similar to the one he’d had on his face the last time Harry saw him, when he was backing away from Harry in the Great Hall, convinced Harry had just set a snake on him… 

 

And even weirder than that, another shape is floating in mid-air next to him. Harry squints at it. It looks like that pompous gryffindor ghost Nearly-Headless Nick, except… Except he isn’t pearly white and transparent like a ghost should be. He’s solid and burned to a cinder. He’s even smoking slightly.  

 

Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry scrambles backwards on the floor and then gingerly gets to his feet, an unusually difficult task with his legs shaking so badly. He looks around in a panic. _I should do something_ , he thinks — but then he looks over at Finch-Fletchly’s face again and knows there’s nothing he _can_ do, and if anyone finds him here it will not look good at all… _I need to get out of here… Someone else will find them… I need to get to Transfiguration —_

 

With a sudden bang, a classroom door flies open next to him and Peeves the Poltergeist comes soaring out into the corridor. Harry’s heart does a weird double-tap in his chest. A whooshing roar fills his head, as if there was a tiny gale inside it. 

 

”Why, it’s wee Potty!” Peeves cackles and zooms around him in a circle, then starts doing somersaults in midair. ”What’s Potty up to? Why’s Potty lurking —?”

 

When Peeves suddenly cuts himself off, Harry shuts his eyes and waits for the inevitable, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. 

 

”ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! _ATTAAAACK_!”

 

A chorus of crashes and bangs drowns out Peeves hollering as every door in the corridor flies open and Harry hurriedly backs away from the sudden tumult until he’s pinned against the nearest wall. Students are screaming. Teachers are shouting for silence and order. For a moment, Harry feels a small jolt of hope that maybe no-one will have noticed that he was the first on the scene… If only Peeves keeps quiet —

 

” _Caught in the act!_ ” 

 

Harry’s stomach plummets again as he slowly turns his head to see a very ashen-faced Ernie point a trembling finger at him. 

 

”That will do, Macmillan!” Professor McGonagall says sharply as comes striding down the corridor with the second year gryffindors and slytherins trailing behind her like a row of ducklings.

 

A familiar white-blonde head appears at her elbow and Harry’s stomach churns when the boy’s grey eyes find the two bodies on the ground and quickly snaps up to lock with his. He can’t read the expression on his friend’s face, but there’s definitely a hint of fear in those eyes… Harry feels sick…

 

While Professor Flitwick levitates Finch-Fletchly’s lifeless body and starts guiding it towards the Hospital Wing, McGonagall instructs all the students back to their classes and then conjures up a large fan that she hands to Ernie Macmillan with the instruction to waft Nearly-Headless Nick up the stairs. When they’ve finally disappeared from view, Harry slowly starts inching away from the wall again. McGonagall turns to stare at him, her face sterner than he’s ever seen it (with the possible exception for when she walked in on Harry, Draco and Granger in the bathroom with the mountain troll in first year…)

 

”This way, Potter”, she says curtly. 

 

 _This is it,_ Harry thinks numbly as he trails after her. _I’m done for. They’ll expel me. Maybe they’ll even send me to Azkaban…. Do they send underage wizards to Azkaban? Do they have maybe a designated section of the prison just for underage offenders… I wonder who the youngest person to ever be sent to Azkaban is —_

 

Harry’s morbid train of thought is cut short when McGonagall suddenly stops in front of a massive, golden gargoyle. Harry studies it passively. _What is that, an eagle?_

 

”Sherbet lemon”, McGonagall says and the gargoyle immediately springs to life, hopping to the side and revealing a doorway behind it through which a spiral staircase can be seen. 

 

Despite the dread filling Harry up to the brim, he can’t help but to feel slightly amazed at the sight because the staircase is slowly moving… He’s seen other moving staircases of course, the castle is full of them, but he’s never seen stairs moving _upwards_ before… McGonagall gestures for him to step onto the staircase first and then they’re both rising up in circles, higher and higher up they go and they don’t even have to move their feet — _This is genius_ , Harry thinks. 

 

Finally they come to a stop and Harry blinks, feeling a little dizzy. They’re standing in front of a large oak door. The dread slams back into him. McGonagall hasn’t told him anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry knows what they’ll find on the other side of this door. This must be the Headmaster’s Office. 

 

McGonagall ushers Harry aside and raps on the door. It creaks open and she puts her hand on the back on his neck and gently nudges him forward. 

 

Harry takes a few steps inside, then stops and looks around in confusion when the professor doesn’t follow. 

 

”Wait here”, she says curtly and then turns around and disappears back down the moving staircase. 

 

Harry swallows thickly and turns back around. 

 

The sight that greets him is an incredible one and if he wasn’t so scared, Harry would have been thrilled at the opportunity to have a quick look around. The large circular office is filled with weird-looking instruments, some of them whirring and ticking, others letting out tiny puffs of smoke or different-coloured glows. In the middle of the room stands a large, claw-footed desk and a very comfortable-looking, puffy chair.

 

Harry takes a deep breath and ventures a little further inside the office, but a sudden gagging noise behind him makes him quickly wheel back around, his heart pounding and cold sweat breaking out on his brow. 

 

On a golden perch next to the door stands a large, red and gold bird. The first thing Harry notices is the beautiful plumage, but then a couple of feathers fall out of its tail and Harry frowns, realising the bird must be sickly, because its head is hanging and it’s drooping grey eyes are dull… Even as he thinks this, the bird lets out another gagging noise and a couple of more feathers fall out and flutters to the floor. 

 

 _That’s just what I need,_ Harry thinks bitterly. _Dumbledore’s pet bird dying while I’m alone with—_

 

The bird lets out a weak caw and suddenly bursts into flames — Harry stumbles backwards with a shocked yell, his heel catching on the edge of the carpet and he loses his balance and sits down heavily on the floor for the third time today, as his painfully throbbing buttock reminds him. He winces and flops around, pushing himself up on his hands and knees. 

 

The door opens again and Professor Dumbledore appears above Harry, peering down at him curiously. Harry quickly scrambles up to his feet, barely refraining from rubbing his sore bottom as he straightens up in front of the Headmaster. 

 

”P-Professor, S-Sir, I — your b-bird — I didn’t, I couldn’t do anything, I swear I didn’t —”

 

Dumbledore slowly turns to look at the smouldering pile of ashes, the only thing left of his pet bird, and Harry feels an absurd impulse to laugh, but thankfully manages to quench it. 

 

”It just… caught fire…” he finishes lamely. 

 

”About time, too”, the old man murmurs with a sad smile.

 

”E-Excuse me, Sir—?”

 

Dumbledore turns back to Harry and his smile widens kindly at the perplexed look on his face. 

 

”He’s been looking dreaful for days, I’ve been telling him to get a move on…”

 

Harry blinks, then looks over at the pile of ashes and notices a tiny little movement as some of its shifts. _Oh…_

 

”Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry”, Dumbledore says, confirming what Harry has just realised. 

 

Cheeks burning, Harry ducks his head and stares down at his feet. _I should have realised,_ he thinks. _Why would a bird burst into flames. So stupid. Dumbledore is going to think I’m a complete —_

 

”Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die”, Dumbledore continues. 

 

”I know”, Harry mutters quickly. ”I did know that. I just. It shocked me, I guess. That’s all.”

 

”Ah, yes. It’s not a pleasant sight… Shame you had to see him on a Burning Day. But on the upside, it is quite remarkable to witness a phoenix be reborn from its own ashes…”

 

Harry glances over at the pile of ashes, half of it having been shaken loose now as the tiny head of the newborn phoenix fights its way up… 

 

”Fascinating creatures, phoenixes”, Dumbledore continues as he strides past Harry and takes his seat behind his desk. ”They can carry immensely heavy loads and their tears have healing powers…”

 

 _Didn’t he hear me when I said I know about them?_ Harry thinks glumly and turns around to face the desk. 

 

Dumbledore’s intense, light-blue eyes are peering at him over the rim of his halfmoon glasses and Harry quickly schools his face in a look of polite interest. Dumbledore gives a small, knowing smile and nods to himself, his eyes twinkling. 

 

”Have a seat, won’t you, Harry?” he says and waves his hand. 

 

Another chair materialises in front of Harry, who blinks, startled. He cautiously approaches it and lowers himself down on the edge of the seat. 

 

”Lemon drop?” Dumbledore offers, holding out a small porcelaine bowl filled with gleaming yellow sweets. 

 

Harry shakes his head politely. 

 

Dumbledore shrugs and takes one himself, popping it into his mouth and sucking on it with a look of pure pleasure on his face. Harry frowns. He’s always thought the headmaster to be a little batty, but… 

 

Suddenly the door slams open behind Harry and he wheels around in his chair. 

 

Professor Snape comes striding into the office, a thunderous scowl on his face and robes billowing more than ever behind him. Harry feels a mix of dread and relief surge up inside him. Maybe Snape has come to help him, or maybe he’s come to kick him out himself —

 

”Headmaster”, Snape snaps coldly and the dread immediately gives way to relief as Harry realises that the scowl in not for him at all. 

 

”Ah, Severus”, Dumbledore says jovially. ”I was wondering when you would join us…”

 

”I would have been here sooner, had anyone told me —”

 

”And yet, here you are, exactly on time — what a fortunate coincidence!”

 

The scowl on Snape’s face deepens. 

 

”Have a seat, Severus… Lemon drop?… No?… I think I might have another actually, just one…”

 

”Headmaster”, Snape says through clenched teeth. ”Surely you can’t think that Harry —”

 

”No, Severus, I don’t…” Dumbledore says with a calming hand gesture. 

 

”You don’t think it was me, Sir?” Harry repeats hopefully. 

 

”No, Harry, I don’t think you attacked anyone”, Dumbledore confirms and fixes him with another intense stare. ”However, I still wanted to talk to you… I actually wanted to talk to you last year, after everything that happened, but your fathers were very anxious to get you home at the time…”

 

Harry thinks back to when he woke up in the hospital wing after his run-in with Quirrell and Voldemort last year. He does remember Dumbledore hinting at wanting a word with him, but his daddy had been very adament about not letting him. It wasn’t because they were leaving though, as Dumbledore just suggested… Harry glances over at Snape in the chair next to him. The man gives him a pinched little grimace, that is possibly meant to be a reassuring smile, but it’s hard to tell… Harry has never seen anything look _less_ like a smile… But then again, this is _Snape_ …

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says diplomatically as he turns back to Dumbledore. 

 

”I must ask you, Harry”, Dumbledore says very seriously. ”Is there something… you wish to tell me?”

 

Harry frowns. Surely Snape must have told him about the Duelling Club? He wants to look over at his Head of House again, for direction, but for some reason he doesn’t feel like that’s an option somehow… He doesn’t want Dumbledore to think he’s hiding something, or lying… 

 

”Anything at all”, Dumbledore adds with a twinkle. 

 

A rush of images run through Harry’s mind: The message written in blood on the wall… Justin Finch-Fletchly’s horrified face as he backed away from him… and then later when Harry stumbled over his petrified body… Macmillan pointing an accusating finger at him — _Caught in the act!_ — everyone staring, everywhere, all the time, pointing and whispering… Draco staring at him… Draco looking at him with fear in his eyes now as well… the thieving houseelf who almost got him killed on the Quidditch pitch… and that disembodied voice Harry heard those two times… _Should I tell them that? Maybe now is the time to tell them about the voice_ — but then he remembers Draco telling him, _”Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t exactly a good sign”_

 

”Harry?” Dumbledore prods.

 

”No, nothing”, Harry says quickly before he can change his mind. ”There’s nothing… Sir…”

 

Dumbledore keeps staring at him for the longest and most tense second of Harry’s life, but then he finally nods with a small sigh. 

 

”Very well… You may go, Harry…”

 

Harry hardly needs telling twice. He jumps up from the chair as if burned and scampers over to the door, but then he hesitates, looking back over at Snape with a questioning look. Dumbledore’s eyes are twinkling again as he looks between Harry and Snape over the rim of his glasses. 

 

Snape gives a small huff and shoots Harry sideways glance, then pushes himself to his feet and follows Harry out of the office. 

 

”Sir…” Harry mumbles uncertainly as they ride the moving staircase down. ”There _is_ something…”

 

Snape quirks his eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

”I didn’t want to tell the headmaster…”

 

”What is it, Harry?”

 

”Well… I heard this… Well, this voice, Sir…”

 

The staircase stops moving and Harry stumbles off it and turns around to face Snape as the gargoyle jumps back into its place in front of the concealed doorway. _It’s a griffin_ , Harry realises suddenly.

 

”Voice?” Snape says sharply and Harry immediately snaps his attention back to him and nods. ”What kind of voice?”

 

”I… I don’t know, it was kind of… Wheezy? No, not wheezy, more like… Like _hoarse…_ ”

 

Snape’s chest swells as he takes great pain in swallowing a sigh and then he lets out a long breath and blinks a couple of times, forcing a calm onto his face… Harry wonders if he just counted backwards from ten in his head, like Harry’s dad has taught him to do when he gets angry…

 

”It doesn’t matter what the voice _sounded like_ ”, Snape says slowly. ” _Who_ was talking? _Where_ and _when_ did you hear it? And what. Did. It. _Say_?”

 

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. ”I couldn’t see who was talking, it was like they were invisible, like a ghost or something — except not a ghost obviously, because they’re not completely invisible, are they — a-anyway — it was talking about killing, attacking, a-and — smelling b-blood —”

 

Snape is staring at Harry as if he’s never seen him before, his face whiter than ever. Harry feels his stomach sink… _I shouldn’t have told him_ … _The one person who still believed me, and I went and told him that — what the Hell is_ wrong _with me?_

 

”You should have told the Headmaster”, Snape murmurs finally. 

 

”I didn’t want him to think…” Harry trails off and swallowing thickly, blinking away the prickling sting in his eyes. 

 

Snape doesn’t ask him to continue or elaborate, just gives him a small nod. 

 

”Transfiguration is almost over by now”, he says instead. ”You might as well go back to the Common Room… And work on your essay—”

 

”I finished it already”, Harry hurries to say, feeling a surge of gratefulness for his Head of House and wanting to, maybe not make him proud, but at least _please_ him somehow. 

 

Snape nods again, curtly, ”Nevertheless. I’ll walk you down.”

 

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles.

 

They walk to the dungeons in silence, but Harry finds himself keeping even steps with the professor and inching as close to his side as he dares. If Snape notices, he doesn’t let on. 

 

*

 

Harry has never been so excited to leave Hogwarts. As soon as tickets for the Hogwarts express become available, he rushes to secure one for himself. He’s not the only one though. It seems like the whole school is going home for the holidays. _That’s probably a first, in the history of ever…_ There’s always at least a handful of students that stay behind during hols, for whatever reason. 

 

But even if his dads owled him and told him he couldn’t come home for Christmas, even if they were both called away unexpectedly or the house had exploded, there is no way Harry would be staying at Hogwarts one more day than absolutely necessary. He would rather spend the whole holiday camping out in his own garden and starve, then stay at Hogwarts. 

 

Things between himself and the other slytherins have been uncomfortably tense. Even Draco is avoiding him now. Harry tries not to think about it too much and focuses instead of getting through the last days before the holidays without breaking down in tears or throwing himself around the blonde’s legs and demanding to be forgiven for whatever he’s done wrong… 

 

Yet, at the same time, the thought of leaving Hogwarts on bad terms is particularly heartbreaking. Harry recalls how dreadful the summer had been when he thought Draco had forgotten about him, because that wretched house-elf had intercepted all his letters… It can’t be helped though. If Draco is scared of him, there’s nothing Harry can do about it now. He just has to hope that whomever is controlling Slytherin’s monster, if anyone, is finally caught and maybe then everything can go back to normal again…

 

On friday afternoon, he’s making his way down from his last Transfiguration lesson of the term when he suddenly hears Filch’s outraged voice from the floor above. Curiosity piqued, Harry turns around and hurries up the stairs. He slows down close to the top and hangs back just out of sight and listens closely… 

 

 _”…even more work for me!”_ Filch’s slightly hysterical voice cuts through the silence. _”Mopping all night, like I haven’t got better things to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore…”_

 

Harry stays still, waiting for Filch’s hobbling footsteps to recede before he sneaks up from the staircase and peers down the corridor. He’s relieved to see that no-one else has been attacked, at least… But he can see why Filch had been in such a bad mood; a small flood of water stretches out across the corridor and from what Harry can see, more of it keeps coming from underneath one of the bathroom doors… He can hear wailing coming from inside as well… _Is anyone hurt?_ he thinks uncertainly and creeps closer to the bathroom. 

 

An ’Out of Order’ sign is hanging lopsidedly on the door, but when Harry tries the handle it turns without trouble and the door slides open with a squeak to match the continued wailing coming from inside. Harry tip-toes through the rushing water and glances around the dim bathroom apprehensively. The wailing stops abruptly and he can hear an echoing hiccough coming from one of the bathroom stalls. 

 

 _”Who’s there?”_ a soft voice calls out. 

 

”Ehm… Harry… Harry Potter”, he says awkwardly and ventures further inside the bathroom. 

 

The ghost of a young girl suddenly soars up from the cubicle and hovers near the ceiling, staring down at him through tear-swollen eyes. 

 

”Have you come to throw something else at me?” she demands. 

 

”Why would I throw something at you?” Harry says, confused. 

 

”Don’t ask me!” the ghost wails miserably. ”Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me…” she trails off and a fresh set of wracking sobs well up in her throat. 

 

Harry winces, ”I’m — eh — sorry to hear that… Did you see you who did it?”

 

”No”, the ghost whines with a pout. ”I was sitting in the U-bend — thinking about death, you know?”

 

”Sure”, Harry mutters wryly. 

 

”And it fell right through the top of my head… It’s over there, it got washed out.”

 

She glares over at one of the sinks and Harry sees a soggy book lying underneath it. He walks over and bends down to pick it up. He can tell it’s a diary, because it’s got a faded date printed on the front — _it’s fifty years old_ , he realises and opens it eagerly —but the pages inside are empty, save for the smudged name _’T. M. Riddle’_ on the very first page. He keeps peeling the wet pages apart, but there is not a trace of writing on any of them… Disappointed, Harry shuts the diary again. _Wonder why anyone would want to get rid of it, though?_

 

Deciding to hang on to it, just in case there’s something hidden inside it, Harry pockets the book. He looks over at the ghost again and gives her a polite smile. 

 

”What’s your name, anyway?” he asks. 

 

The ghost’s face becomes a little less transparent. If Harry didn’t know better, he would say she was blushing. 

 

”M-Myrtle…” she answers, with a childish giggle. 

 

”Well, it was nice to meet you, Myrtle”, Harry says kindly. ”I’m sorry someone threw this at you. I’ll get rid of it for you, okay?”

 

”Okay, Harry…” she giggles. 

 

Harry starts packing his trunk as soon as he gets back to the dorm, instead of leaving it to the last minute like he usually does. Something about going through the motions of packing up everything, it just makes him feel like the moment when he gets to leave is getting closer, like he can actually speed up time somehow just by reminding himself that he’ll be leaving soon… _soon, soon, soon…_

 

”Harry?” 

 

He startles and fumbles with the Herbology book he’s holding. It tumbles out of his hand and lands heavily on his foot. He swears loudly and bends down to squeeze his throbbing toes. As he does, he looks up through his fringe and sees Draco’s slightly blurred form framed in the doorway to the dormitory… Harry blinks the tears away and straightens up again. 

 

”You okay?” 

 

”Yep”, Harry lies through gritted teeth. ”Fine.”

 

Draco takes a couple of steps inside the room. Harry stays where he is, watching him appraisingly… _Wouldn’t want to scare him away with any sudden movements, now would I…_ And still the other boy stops at a safe distance from him. He’s also avoiding eye contact, Harry notices with a twinge. 

 

”I don’t know what… what’s happened…” Draco says in a small voice. 

 

Harry frowns. Draco quickly glances up at him, but then looks down again and stares intently at his own feet instead, the toe of his shoe scuffing against the silver and green carpet… _He’s crying,_ Harry realises then. _Or trying not to anyway_ …

 

”I —” Draco’s voice breaks and he quickly clears his throat. ”I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”

 

”What?”

 

”I’m sorry.”

 

” _You’re_ sorry?”

 

”Y-Yeah…” Draco croaks and then turns away completely, finally having lost his battle against his tears. 

 

”I thought… I…” Harry trails off uncertainly. ” _You’ve_ been avoiding _me_ , I didn’t think… I mean, I thought…”

 

Draco quickly brings up his arm to wipe his face on his sleeve, then turns back around to face Harry. 

 

”I thought _you_ were angry with _me_ ”, Harry says earnestly.  

 

”No, why would _I_ be — I thought after the Duelling Club — when I…”

 

”When you what?”

 

”You know, when I didn’t want anyone to know about us, I thought you got angry with me—”

 

”—Wait, _what_ —?”

 

”—and later when I tried to apologise, when I — well, _you know_ —” Draco blushes and glances over at Harry’s bed. ”You didn’t — You — You were still angry with me then, so I thought…”

 

Harry just blinks. His mind is reeling. Is it possible that he and Draco have been having two completely different fights for the past week? Could it really be possible that Draco isn’t scared of him at all? 

 

He lets out a shaky chuckle and just shakes his head. Draco frowns. 

 

”I… I’m not angry with you”, Harry says simply and shrugs. ”Far from it… In fact, I — I’ve missed you, Draco… Like, _a lot_.”

 

Another couple of tears spill over Draco’s lashes and splashes over his milky-white skin, but he smiles happily and kills the distance between them in three quick strides. 

 

Before Harry knows what’s happened, there are arms around him and lips pressed firmly against his own. He blinks stupidly, his hands twitching uselessly at his sides and his lips trembling — and how has he never noticed how dry and chapped they are until now? — he instinctively jerks his head back a fraction and quickly wets them —

 

Suddenly, Draco’s tongue dabs against his own and it sends a jolt throughout his entire body — 

 

Draco’s tongue retreats again and without thinking about it, Harry chases after it, wanting to feel that sensation again, _and again and again and again…_ He licks his way in between the other boy’s lips, then captures his lower lip between his own and _sucks_ —

 

A tiny moan escapes Draco and Harry smiles against his mouth… He feels impossibly light, like he might soar away at any moment… He puts both arms around Draco’s waist and holds on tight, just in case. 

 

When they finally break the kiss again, they’re both breathing heavily and when Harry blinks his eyes open, Draco’s eyes are heavy-lidded and unfocused… But they’re also glittering like silver, like when he’s been flying… 

 

”You’re beautiful”, Harry murmurs before he even knows what he’s about to say. 

 

On Sunday evening, a large end of term feast is served in the Great Hall at dinner before the Hogwarts Express is due take them all home for the holidays in the morning, and you would think it’s the last meal of their lives judging by the subdued mood that hangs heavily over the Hall.

 

Harry is getting really sick and tired of all the surreptious looks he’s receiving, but even that isn’t enough to dampen his own good mood after he and Draco made up. 

 

He keeps glancing over at the blonde next to him and every time they accidentally lock eyes, they both blush and smile secretively at each other — until finally Blaise tells them in a carryingly loud and clear voice to knock it out before he chucks up his christmas pudding… 

 

Harry and Draco quickly look down at their plates, but the grins on their faces stay stubbornly plastered to their bright red faces. 

 

*

 

Harry heaves the trunk off the Hogwarts Express and it almost lands on his foot, but he just manages to move it in time. He straightens up and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. You don’t appreciate magic until you’re not allowed to use it anymore…

 

”Harry! _Harry!_ ” 

 

He spins around happily and beams as he sees his dad weave his way through the crowd, waving enthusiastically. Harry grabs his trunk again and starts pulling it, walking as quickly as he can towards Sirius. When they finally reach each other, the older man wraps his arms around him and lifts him off the ground and spins him around. Harry wraps his legs around the man’s waist and clambers onto him, laughing happily into his neck… The familiar scent of _Sirius_ hits him and he almost feels like crying… But he laughs harder instead. 

 

”Oh, it’s good to see you”, Sirius murmurs thickly and cards his fingers through the hair on the back of Harry’s head. ”Oh my goodness… You’ve got so big, too!”

 

”Have I?” Harry says hopefully. 

 

”Very!” Sirius says and puts him down on the ground again. ”And heavy! I won’t be able to lift you for much longer…”

 

”With a little help from magic you will”, Harry says with a grin. 

 

Sirius laughs and ruffles his hair fondly, ”Yeah, you’re right. We’ll find a way…”

 

”Where’s daddy?” Harry asks, looking around Sirius hopefully. 

 

”He’s waiting at home… Said he wanted to take the opportunity to get the house thoroughly cleaned. Don’t worry, though. We saved the tree for when you’re home!”

 

”Good”, Harry smiles. 

 

”So”, Sirius says and grabs the trunk for him. ”What’s new? Discover any more awesome powers lately?”

 

”No, not since last week”, Harry laughs. 

 

He hadn’t realised he was worried about his dads reaction to him being a Parselmouth until Sirius made a joke about it, but now he feels completely fine about the whole thing. If Sirius isn’t worried, then there’s definitely no need for Harry to be. 

 

He’s thrilled to see his dad’s motorcycle parked outside King’s Cross station and whoops excitedly, jumping into the side car. Sirius throws a quick look around him to make sure no muggles are around before shrinking Harry’s trunk and handing it to him. 

 

”Where’s Hedwig?” he asks after he’s mounted the bike. 

 

”I dunno, I haven’t seen her in a couple of days… I’m sure she’ll head straight home once she’s done hunting…”

 

Sirius kick starts the bike and they roar off down the street. 

 

Harry is barely out of the side car before Remus comes running out of the house and envelops him in a massive bear hug. Harry hugs him back eagerly, burrowing into his warm chest greedily and nuzzling his soft christmas jumper. 

 

”Oh, I see”, Sirius says good-naturedly. ”Someone’s got a favourite…”

 

”Shut up”, Harry and Remus says in unison, still hugging each other tightly and Sirius laughs.

 

” _Meow…_ ” 

 

Harry feels something small and soft brush against his ankles and peers down to see Selina rub her face happily against him and purring. 

 

”Hedwig arrived half an hour ago, as well”, Remus says and finally releases him. 

 

Harry immediately scoops up Selina and cradles her to his chest. 

 

”The whole family together again!” Sirius says happily. 

 

*

 

As the snow melts away around the castle and more and more time passes without any more attacks taking place, the dark mood of the previous school term finally starts to lift. Professor Sprout proudly informs everyone that the Mandrakes had started to become both moody and secretive, a sure sign that they were leaving childhood and entering into adolescence… And apparantly, as soon as their acne has cleared, they’d be ready to be repotted for the last time before they could be cut up and stewed, and all those who have been petrified will be able to be cured again. 

 

As they leave January behind and enter into February, Harry starts to seriously agonise about Valentine’s Day… He’s not sure if he should give Draco a card or something… _Maybe a gift? That’s what you do, isn’t it? When you’re… Well, whatever we are…_ That’s the problem, isn’t it? Harry doesn’t know _what_ they are. They haven’t talked about their relationship at all, and apart from a quick peck when they saw each other again on the Hogwarts Express heading back to school after the Christmas holidays, they haven’t repeated that kiss either… That doesn’t mean Harry hasn’t been thinking about it though. 

 

In fact, some might say he’s been obsessing over it ever since it happened… His first _real kiss,_ his first _snog…_ And it had been amazing! He really wants to do it again, but he’s too scared to initiate it… What if Draco doesn’t want to kiss him again? What if he leans in and the blonde recoils or pushes him away or slaps him across the face —

 

”Harry?” 

 

”Yeah?” Harry says quickly and spins around, discretely trying to get his arm through the twisted sleeve of his pyjamas without looking like a prat. 

 

Draco’s gaze flicker down to his arm and his lips twitch with amusement, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he removes his robes and reaches for his own pyjamas that lie impeccably folded on top of his pillow. He turns away before pulling his shirt off, but Harry manages to steal a look at his naked back at least before the pyjama top hides it from view again. Harry blushes and looks away again.

 

”Yeah, what?” he repeats. 

 

”Nothing… You were muttering under your breath”, Draco says with a smirk, tying the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and getting under the covers on his bed. 

 

”I was?” Harry says numbly, cheeks burning. ”W-What did I say…?”

 

”I couldn’t hear, but you were muttering… It was cute…”

 

”Yeah, right, cute”, Harry repeats, clearing his suddenly dry throat. 

 

”It was”, Draco insists, resting his head on his hand and smirking at him. 

 

Harry is hit with an overwhelming urge to walk over and kiss that smirk off his face… He swallows thickly and climbs into his own bed instead. 

 

On the morning of February fourteenth, they walk into the Great Hall for breakfast and the vision that greets them makes Harry stop dead in his tracks — it’s like being smacked in the face with a giant Valentine’s Day Card — there are pink hearts and red roses everywhere, and heart-shaped confetti keeps raining from the ceiling and getting into people’s porridge and drinks… 

 

Harry gapes as a heart-shaped pink cloud comes zooming towards him and explodes in a hundred little glittering red hearts, all squeaking _’Happy Valentine’s Day’_ before they pop out of existance all around his head like so many soap bubbles. 

 

He forces his feet to start moving again and walks in a trance over to his usual spot at the Slytherin table and sinks down next to Draco. 

 

At the Head Table, Lockhart stands up and waves his arms to get everyone’s attention. He is wearing bright pink robes to mark the occasion. 

 

”Look at Snape’s face”, Draco snickers quietly. 

 

Harry finds their Head of House amongst the teachers and smirks. The man looks particularly stony this morning, his eyes flicking back to Lockhart repeatedly and darkening a little more each time. Indeed, all the teachers, with the exception of Dumbledore, look like they would rather be anywhere else right now. 

 

”Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart exclaims happily. ”And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!”

 

Harry huffs incredulously. _Forty-six people actually sent Lockhart valentines? What’s wrong with people?_

 

”Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!”

 

Lockhart claps his hands twice and a sidedoor opens next to the Head Table, through which a dozen dwarves walk in, all of them wearing golden wings and carrying little harps… Harry gapes. _This isn’t real… Can he_ do _that_? 

 

”My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart exclaims excitedly. ”They will be roving around the school today, delivering everyone’s Valentines!” 

 

”No-one better send me one!” Harry says hastily to the table at large. 

 

”Yeah right!” Seamus snickers. ”And risk incurring the wrath of a Malfoy scourned? I think you’re safe—!”

 

” _Shut up_!” Draco hisses and tosses a cupcake at the Irish boy’s head; it bounces off him, but not before smearing pink frosting all over his sandy-blonde hair.

 

”Oi—!” Seamus protests loudly, grabbing lumps of frosting from his head and flicking it on the ground.

 

”And the fun doesn’t stop here!” Lockhart is shouting from the Head Table. ”I’m sure my esteemed colleagues would love to get into the spirit of the holiday! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion, for example—?”

 

Snape shoots the Hall a glare that definitely says, _Ask me and I will force-feed you poison!_

 

”What was _that_ supposed to mean?” Pansy asks Seamus, looking suspiciously between him and Draco.

 

”Nothing!” Draco says immediately, still glaring at Seamus. ”Just Finnigan being an idiot. As usual—!”

 

”Oh, shove off Malfoy! Can’t you take a joke? _Merlin’s beard_ …”

 

”—and while you’re at it”, Lockhart continues. ”Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly dog!”

 

Professor Flitwick buries his face in his hands. Harry chuckles. 

 

All day, the cupid-costumed dwarves keeps barging into classrooms to deliver messages, much to the teachers annoyance and, gradually, the students’ as well. The first couple of times it happens, it’s funny… but after the eleventh or so time, Harry starts getting bored… 

 

”Oy, you! ’Arry Potter!” a particularly gruff dwarf hollers suddenly, as Harry and his friends are making their way from the Charms classroom to Transfiiguration and Harry spins around in horror to see him elbow his way through the crowd to get to him. 

 

Harry is seized by an irrational fear of having an embarrassing love note recited to him by an angry dwarf in paper wings, and spins on his heel and starts to run away… Unfortunately, the dwarf is much more adapt at weaving his way through the crowd and manages to overtake Harry next to a long queue of giggling first-years. 

 

”I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ’Arry Potter in person”, the dwarf proclaims and starts plucking at his harp. 

 

”Not here!” Harry hisses and tries to shove his way past him, but the dwarf grabs a hold of his bag and holds him back. ” _Let me go!_ ”

 

”Hey”, Draco says. ”Let go of—!”

 

Harry gives the bag a hard tug, but instead of pulling the dwarf off his feet as Harry had hoped, his entire bag rips open and all his books sprawl out around him on the floor and his ink bottle breaks and splatters ink all over them. 

 

Harry takes a deep breath, counting backwards from ten to resist the urge to kicksthe dwarf in the head… He quickly starts gathering up all his books, getting ink all over his hands… Draco watches him worriedly, looking torn and Harry realises he probably wants to help but he doesn’t want to get ink on his sensitive skin… 

 

”Can you get rid of him”, Harry grumbles, providing the blonde with an alternative way to help him. 

 

Draco immediately grabs his wand and gives the dwarf a threatening glare. But the dwarf seems completely unfazed and starts plucking at his harp again. Harry spins around, still on his hands and knees and grabs the last of his books — it’s the diary he found just before Christmas — and looking up, he finds himself staring into the horrified eyes of one Ginny Weasley. 

 

Just at that moment, the dwarf starts singing at the top of his voice:

 

_”His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard…”_

 

Ginny Weasley’s face goes beet red and Harry groans, sure he can guess who the author of the song is.

 

_”…I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”_

 

Harry pushes himself to his feet and gives the laughing crowd a strained smile before bolting, Draco close on his heels. 

 

”Harry wait —!”

 

Harry finally slows down in the corridor of the Transfiguration classroom and Draco catches up to him. 

 

”It wasn’t that bad…” the blonde says, breathing heavily. 

 

”Just — don’t — never mention it — ever!” Harry begs.

 

”Alright…” 

 

”Hey, Harry —!” Pansy Parkinson shrieks from behind them, her voice trembling with repressed giggles. 

 

Harry turns to glare at her and she snickers. 

 

”Oh yeah”, she tells the other girls. ”I can see it now… they really _are_ as green as a fresh pickled toad!”

 

The girls howl with laughter. 

 

”Ha-ha…” Harry says sourly and gives the girl a fake grin, when she winks at him before ducking inside the Transfiguration classroom. ”Merlin, I hate her…”

 

Draco gives him an uneasy look, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

”Come on…” Harry mutters heavily and leads the way inside the classroom. 

 

Later that night, Harry excuses himself and heads to the dormitory before everyone else, not wishing to hear yet another rendition of  _”His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad”_ by either Pansy or Seamus… Draco gives him a worried look from his spot in the sofa, but Harry just shakes his head. 

 

When he’s changed into his pyjamas, Harry decides to get all his books out to assess the damage… That’s when he notices… Riddle’s diary, unlike all the other books, is completely clean. There’s not so much as a dot of ink anywhere on the covers or inside on any of the pages. 

 

Struck with a sudden idea, Harry grabs a new ink bottle from his trunk and then climbs onto his four-poster bed and sits cross-legged on top of the covers. Opening up the diary to a random page, he grabs one of his quills and lets a drop of ink blot the page. No sooner has the ink landed on the page than it gets soaked up by the paper and vanishes. 

 

Feeling a surge of excitement, Harry scrawls out the words, _’My name is Harry Potter’_ on the pages and holds his breath as they shine for a second, then sinks into the paper… Then suddenly, the ink comes oozing out of the paper again, except this time the words are different…

 

_”Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?”_

 

The words gleam up at Harry for a second, before they too vanish… Harry lets out an excited breath and hurries to dip his quill in the ink bottle again and scribbles out the reply; _I found it. Someone tried to flush it down the toilet._

 

_”Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not wish the content of this diary read…”_

 

 _What do you mean?_ Harry scrawls quickly. 

 

_”I mean… This diary holds memories of terrible things that happened in this castle many years ago. Things that were covered up…”_

 

 _Terrible things have been happening here now too,_ Harry scribbles. _Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?_

 

Riddle’s answer comes even faster this time and his handwriting becomes sloppier, as if he’s writing in a hurry, just like Harry… 

 

_”Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, it was told that the Chamber was merely a legend, that it did not really exist but they were wrong… In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students until finally, it killed a girl… I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled from the school, but the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, felt ashamed that such a thing would have happened at his school and forbade me to speak the truth about what I had seen… Instead, the story went that the girl had died in a freak accident. I was given a trophy for my troubles and told to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again, that the monster lived on, hidden inside the Chamber and that he who had the power to release it was not imprisoned…”_

 

 _It’s happening again now!_ Harry scrawls. _Who was it that opened the Chamber last time?_

 

_”I can show you if you like… You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.”_

 

Harry hesitates and looks over at the door to the dormitory. He knows it won’t be much longer before Draco decides to follow him up here to make sure he’s alright… Glancing down at the diary again, the words have been replaced with new ones, _Let me show you…_

 

Harry takes a deep breath and jots down, _OK_

 

The pages of the diary starts flipping of their own accord, as it disturb by a heavy breeze, then finally stops on a particular page and the words _June 13th_ appears in the top-right corner…

 

Before he knows what’s happening, Harry feels himself tip over and leave the bed and then he’s falling… There is a blur of shapes and colours around him… 

 

Then his feet hit solid ground and he finds himself standing in the middle of a circular room that is vaguely familiar… Looking around, Harry realises he’s standing inside the Headmaster’s Office, but it’s not Professor Dumbledore sitting behind the desk this time, but another wizard… Professor Dippet, Harry realises. The Headmaster at Hogwarts fifty years ago. 

 

Feeling strangely out of place, Harry starts to inch his way backwards towards the door before the wizard notices his presence, but before he reaches the door, there is a knock from the other side of it and Harry jumps back. 

 

”Enter”, the old wizard mutters. 

 

The door swings open and a very handsome boy of about sixteen years enter. Harry stares up at him, feeling oddly starstruck… The boy ignores him and walks right past him. _They can’t see me_ , Harry thinks. _I’m not actually here, it’s just a memory._

 

”Ah, Riddle”, the old wizard says, looking up from the letter he’d been reading. 

 

”You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” the boy, or rather _young man_ , says in a velvety voice that makes something flutter in Harry’s belly and he feels a small twinge of guilt, thinking of Draco back in the Common Room, probably worrying about him right now…

 

”Sir down… I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me… My dear boy, I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?”

 

”No”, Riddle says at once. ”I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — that —”

 

”You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” Professor Dippet says peering at Riddle curiously. 

 

”Yes, Sir”, Riddle mumbles. 

 

”You are Muggle-born?”

 

”Half-blood, Sir”, Riddle says, his cheeks reddening. ”Muggle father, witch mother.”

 

”And are both your parents —?”

 

”Yes”, Riddle says shortly. ”Well, my mother died shortly after I was born. They told me at the orphanage that she lived long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather, her father… I don’t know my father.”

 

”Yes…” Professor Dippet murmurs with a sympathetic grimace. ”But you see, the thing is, Tom… Although special arrangements might have been made for you, but under the circumstances —”

 

”You mean the attacks, Sir?”

 

”Precisely. It simply wouldn’t be safe for you here… As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is already talking about closing the school entirely, after what happened to that poor girl…”

 

”But — Sir — if the person responsible was caught — if it all stopped —?”

 

”What do you mean?” Professor Dippet says hoarsely. ”Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?”

 

”No, Sir”, Riddle says quickly, but Harry feels sure he’s lying. 

 

”You may go, Tom…” Professor Dippet dismisses him and sinks back in his seat, looking disappointed and extremely old. 

 

Harry hurries to follow Riddle out of the office. They make their way through the castle, following the all-too-familiar path down to the dungeosn… Harry glances up into the other boy’s face every so often, still struck by his handsome features but also the tense look of determination on his face… _He definitely knows something,_ Harry thinks excitedly. 

 

They enter a small, dim room and Riddle slides the door almost shut then stands stock still, staring out the tiny crack left between the door and the frame… Harry watches his back tensely for a long moment, but after a while, with nothing happening, he starts to get bored and restless, wanting to return to the present and his bed… 

 

But then suddenly he hears something… Footsteps on the other side of the door… Riddle waits for another tense moment, until the person on the other side of the door has walked past, and then he carefully sneaks the door open again and follows… Harry tip-toes after him, and even though there is no way they’ll be able to hear him, he finds himself holding his breath so as not to make too much noise.

 

Suddenly, Riddle stops dead in his tracks and inclines his head, listening… Harry strains his ears and listens as well, and that’s when he hears it, a voice that sounds vaguely familiar… 

 

_”C’mon now… gotta get yeh outta here… c’mon, in the box with yeh…”_

 

”Evening, Rubeus”, Riddle says sharply and jumps out from behind the corner. 

 

Harry steps out from behind him and sees a huge boy quickly slam a door shut behind him, but before it shuts, Harry catches a glimpse of a very large wooden box. 

 

”What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”

 

”It’s all over”, Riddle says and steps closer to the other boy. ”I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop, and I can’t let that happen, Hogwarts is my home—”

 

”What d’yeh —?”

 

”I don’t think you meant it to kill anyone, but monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for a bit of exercise and —”

 

”It never killed no-one!” the large boy bellows angrily, backing up against the door as if to protect it. 

 

”Come on, Rubeus”, Riddle murmurs, moving closer still. ”The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow… The least we can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”

 

”It wasn’ him! He wouldn’! He never!”

 

”Stand aside”, Riddle says quietly and draws his wand. 

 

Everything happens incredibly fast after that. Riddle swirls his wand, hissing a spell and the door flies open with such force that it sends the other, larger boy flying into the opposite wall and a bright light explodes in the dark corridor… Harry stumbles back and lets out a piercing scream as something huge and hairy comes scuttling towards him at great speed —

 

Riddle, having been bowled aside, scrambles to his feet quickly and takes aim at the creature tearing down the corridor, but before he can send a curse after it, the large boy has thrown himself on top of his back with a howling ”NOOOO!”

 

Riddle lands heavily on the floor, his wand clattering out of his hand and rolling away. 

 

The entire corridor starts whirling around them and Harry grips the flagstones next to him to steady himself, but before he knows it, he’s sitting corss-legged on top of his four-poster bed again… He gasps and heaves a great big breath, just as the door to the dormitory slides open and Draco appears. 

 

”Harry, are you sure you’re —?” 

 

Harry quickly wipes the cold sweat from his forehead and slams the diary shut and stows it under his pillow. His hands are shaking and his breathing is still laboured. 

 

”Harry? What’s wrong?”

 

”It was Hagrid”, Harry gasps. ”Hagrid opened the Chamber last time.”

 

”The gamekeeper?” 

 

”Yeah… I just saw… I saw it…”

 

”Wait, what? You _saw—_?”

 

 _It all makes,_ Harry thinks feverishly. Hagrid always did get the most absurd pets. Like that time he attempted to raise his own dragon… Not to mention the three-headed dog that guarded the Philosopher’s Stone! Hagrid even named it _Fluffy_ , of all things! If anyone heard about a monster hidden at the castle and decided to find and befriend it, it would be the half-giant…

 

”What should we do?” he asks Draco. ”Should we tell someone? Snape, maybe?”

 

Draco just shakes his head, ”I… I don’t know… What do you mean you _saw_ it happen?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry tells Draco everything — skipping over the part where he more or less swooned over Riddle’s good looks, obviously — and by the end of the story, Draco’s eyes are round as saucers and his breathing shallow… 

 

”What was it, the monster?”

 

”It was like… Like a spider, I guess… But massive!”

 

”And Hagrid kept it in a box, like a — a — _pet_?”

 

”That’s the part that surprises you? That Hagrid would try and house-train the monster? Do you not remember Fluffy? Or Norbert? Look, I don’t want to believe that Hagrid would wilfully set that thing on the students, I mean, he’s a bit of an oaf, but he’s nice enough… I’m just saying, _it makes sense_ … We know he likes dangerous creatures. We know he can do magic but he’s not _allowed_ to, which means he must have been _expelled_ from Hogwarts.”

 

”Okay”, Draco says and nods. ”Okay. Yeah, it makes sense.”

 

”So…”

 

”One question… What about that house-elf?”

 

”What?” Harry frowns. ”What about it?”

 

”That house-elf said there was a plot, so whomever opened the Chamber and set the monster loose, was planning to do it last summer and somehow this elf found out about it and decided to go warn you of all people, because it has some weird crush on you or something… Hagrid definitely doesn’t own a house-elf. So how did the elf find out about the plot, if Hagrid’s the one who keeps opening the Chamber?”

 

”…I don’t know”, Harry admits. 

 

”Look, maybe it’s better not to get involved.”

 

”Not get involved?” Harry splutters. 

 

”There hasn’t been an attack for months! Maybe the monster has gone back into hibernation or something…”

 

Harry nibbles his lip and thinks hard about the whole situation for a moment. Part of him wants to contact his dads and ask their opinon. Or even Professor Snape would do, in a pinch. But maybe Draco is right. There hasn’t been another attack since Finch-Fletchly and the Gryffindor ghost. Maybe it’s all over… 

 

”Okay”, he says decisively. ”We wait and see what happens, but if there’s another attack, we go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him everything!”

 

Draco worries his lip anxiously, but finally relents and nods in agreement. 

 

As the days pass by without another incident and no more disembodied voices stalking through the hallways, Harry starts to relax about the whole thing. 

 

He has taken to flipping through the pages of Riddle’s diary, but he doesn’t write anything in it. It is tempting to contact the memory of the boy again, and maybe even dive into one of his memories and see him again… Harry blushes and hides the diary under his pillow again, throwing a guilty glance over at Draco’s still sleeping form in the next bed… It’s a good thing Harry is worried about Riddle getting disappointed with him if he were to find out Harry hasn’t done anything with the important information he gave him, or Harry might give in to the temptation… And then he’d feel really awful afterwards…

 


	13. The Chamber of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas update, as promised! (And it's a long one too!)  
> Happy Holidays, everyone! :)

Finally, as the Easter holidays approach, Harry and the rest of the second-years get distracted by their choice of additional subjects for third year. Harry scans the list of subjects offered, feeling completely lost as to which ones to choose… He doesn’t really fancy any of them. He only likes Quidditch. And in theory Defense Against the Dark Arts, but not the way Lockhart teaches it. If Harry could choose to drop the subject next year, he probably would. 

 

In the end, he ends up ticking all the same subjects as Draco, figuring if he doesn’t care about the subjects anyway, he might as well pick ones in which he knows he’ll have the blonde for company. 

 

”Will you write?” Draco asks as the Hogwarts Express rolls into platform nine and three quarters. 

 

”It’s only a week!” Harry says with a grin. 

 

”That doesn’t answer my question”, Draco grumbles and narrows his eyes at him. 

 

Harry laughs. 

 

”Still not getting my answer…”

 

”Yes”, Harry exclaims and rolls his eyes fondly. ”I promise, I’ll write…”

 

Draco’s lips twitch and his eyes drop down to Harry’s mouth — that suddenly feels very dry, Harry notices and he swallows thickly — The train finally lurches to a stop. 

 

Draco steps right into Harry’s space and brushes his lips against his in a feathery kiss that is over before Harry gets a chance to shake himself out of his trance and kiss back. 

 

Draco gives him a small smirk and shoves past him, winking cheekily at him over his shoulder before disappearing throught the nearest door. 

 

Harry blinks and sucks in a breath, feeling a bit dizzy but he can’t stop smiling. A passing hufflepuff gives him a weird look, but he still can’t seem to wipe the smile from his face. 

 

”You chose _Divination_?” Sirius says incredulously at the dinner table later that night. 

 

”Yeah?” Harry says.

 

”Over Ancient Runes and Arithmancy?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and shrugs. 

 

Remus gives him a fond look and smiles a little secretively, but doesn’t say anything. Sirius turns to his husband and gives him a look, but Remus merely shrugs as well. 

 

”What am I missing?” Sirius demands, looking between the two of them. 

 

”Divination might be fun”, Remus says cryptically, instead of answering his question. 

 

”Don’t make me laugh”, Sirius grumbles. ”No wizard with half a brain takes any stock in that mumbo-jumbo… I still can’t believe Dumbledore introduced the subject in the first place. He obviously doesn’t believe in it myself —”

 

”That’s enough, Sirius”, Remus says. ”Your son will be taking Divination next year. He doesn’t need to be influenced by your opinions before he even steps foot in the classroom.”

 

”I don’t really care”, Harry says. 

 

”Then why’d you _pick it_?” Sirius says, raising his hands in exasperation.

 

Harry only shrugs again and puts his knife and fork down, ”May I be excused? I promised Draco I would write him and I want to send Hedwig with the letter before he goes to bed.”

 

”Sure…” Remus says and smiles at him. 

 

”You just saw him two hours ago”, Sirius says. 

 

”I know, but…” Harry trails off with an embarrassed smile.

 

” _And_ that’s _what you’re missing…_ ” he hears his daddy tell Sirius as soon as he’s left the kitchen.

 

Harry makes a point of writing Draco a letter every night. Even when he doesn’t get a reply on the fourth morning, Harry still writes a new letter later in the evening. The reply comes only an hour later, when Harry is getting ready for bed. He looks up and immediately recognises the eagle owl outside his window. 

 

Beaming, he walks over and opens it. The owl lands on top of his shoulder and holds its leg out dutifully, allowing Harry to untie the small scroll before taking off again. 

 

”Harry? What are you doing?” Remus says on the other side of his bedroom door. ”I thought I heard something—”

 

”You can come in, daddy!” Harry calls out and closes the window again. 

 

The bedroom door slides open and Remus sticks his head through, looking around curiously. 

 

”What are you doing?”

 

”Just received a letter from Draco!” Harry says and beams, unfolding the small piece of parchment and scanning the short message.

 

”At this hour?”

 

”Yeah, but I just sent him one like an hour ago…” Harry mumbles, his heart hammering in his chest as he keeps staring at the words scrawled on the parchment in Draco’s familiar, swirly handwriting…

 

_You’re an idiot._

_I love you._

_D_

 

”Okay, well, no more letters tonight”, Remus mutters. ”Give the boy a chance to miss you…”

 

Harry just keeps beaming and climbs into bed, putting the note from Draco in his nightstand drawer. Remus steps inside the room and starts to tuck him in, but Harry bats his hands away, ”Daddy… I’m not a baby…”

 

”Of course you are”, Remus says and sits down on the edge of the bed. ”You’ll always be my baby.”

 

”Daddy…” Harry mutters, blushing.

 

”Good night, Harry”, Remus says gently and leans down to kiss the top of his head. 

 

”Good night…” Harry mutters back and burrows deeper down under the covers. 

 

”Leave the door open?” Remus asks from the doorway. 

 

Harry’s cheeks flush deeper and he shakes his head, even though the thought of the nightmares he’d be inviting with the total darkness is less than pleasant… 

 

”Just a little bit, for my peace of mind?” Remus says, offering him an out.

 

”Okay, fine. If you have to…”

 

”Okay… Good night, cub.”

 

”Night daddy…”

 

When they get back from the Easter holiday, Flint has revised the Quidditch practise schedule for the third time this year. Harry quickly scans it and groans. 

 

”Tonight? We’re not even playing tomorrow!” he says. 

 

”I know”, Flint says with a malicious grin. ”But Gryffindor is…”

 

”Yeah, so —?”

 

”So it would really hurt their chances against Hufflepuff tomorrow if someone else happened to book the field tonight, preventing them from practising”, Adrian says and gives Flint an exasperated look. ”Are you at all familiar with the term ’good sportsmanship’?”

 

”Shove off”, Flint says and gives the other boy’s shoulder a rough shove. 

 

”Don’t push me!” Adrian growls and shoves him back. 

 

Harry and Draco exchange a look and quickly make their way out of the Common Room before the fight escalates further. 

 

”What’s the deal with those two…” Harry mutters. 

 

”I think they like each other”, Draco says and shrugs uncomfortably. 

 

Harry gives him a weird look, ”That doesn’t make any sense! They’re always fighting!”

 

Draco shrugs again, blushing. 

 

”I love you too, by the way”, Harry says with a wry smile, Draco’s eyes widen and he quickly looks around to make sure no-one’s around. ”Relax… No-one’s here.”

 

Draco gives him a sheepish look. Swallowing hard, Harry inches closer to the other boy gingerly, giving him plenty of time to recoil should he want to…

 

”Draco…” Harry murmurs. ”Can I… I really want to…”

 

”What?”

 

”Kiss you…”

 

Draco lets out a shaky breath and smiles shyly, then tilts his head and gently captures Harry’s lips with his own. Harry’s stomach does a somersault and his fingertips prickles, but he steps even closer to the other boy and puts his hands on his hips… Draco raises his arms and puts them loosely around Harry’s neck, pressing closer… 

 

 _That’s his heart_ , Harry thinks when he feels the subtle throbbing against his own chest — for some reason, the thought of Draco’s heart beating, and beating _that hard_ just because Harry’s kissing him, makes the kiss feel all the more intense — Harry hums low in his throat and Draco starts licking his way into his mouth, as if he wants to taste the sound… 

 

Finally, they come apart again, both of them breathing heavily and smiling like idiots… But Harry doesn’t care what he looks like, because he feels _brilliant_!

 

They can hear Flint and Pucey’s voices on the other side of the concealed door and step back from each other just before the wall rearranges itself and reveals the two older boys, still bickering relentlessly. 

 

”Potter, Malfoy, let’s go!” Flint snaps and storms off down the corridor. 

 

”My book bag…” Harry says. 

 

”Just bring it”, Adrian says. ”Marcus will have a fit if we’re late for practise.”

 

Harry shrugs, and hoists the bag onto his shoulder and the three of them make their ways out of the dungeon and towards the quidditch pitch. 

 

Of course, by the time the team has changed into their quidditch uniforms, the Gryffindor team has shown up and most of their allotted practise is spent watching Flint and Wood flex their muscles and scream in each other’s faces. 

 

Finally, the gryffindors give up and leave the pitch again and Flint smirks as he watches them go. He turns towards the rest of the team and tells them to do some laps around the pitch and then hit the showers. 

 

”You know you’ve wasted everyone’s time, right”, Adrian bitches. 

 

”Yep, especially the gryffindors!” Flint says with a smug grin. 

 

However, as it turns out, Flint needn’t have bothered because the next day the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams have only just started to warm up before the match when Professor McGonagall comes marching out onto the field carrying a large, purple megaphone through which she declares the match cancelled. 

 

Oliver Wood almost crash lands in his hurry to get to her and protest, but the old witch ignores him and continues addressing the crowd, telling all the students to head to their Common Rooms where their respective Heads of Houses will give them further information. 

 

Harry and Draco exchange a worried look, then start making their way down from the slytherin stands. 

 

Once all the slytherins are gathered in the Common Room and the Head Boy and Girl have both finished a head count, Professor Snape holds out his hands to call for quiet and then proceeds to tell them that there has been another double attack — two more students have been petrified, although he won’t tell them who — Harry feels his stomach drop, this is it, he’s going to have to tell Snape about Riddle’s diary and Hagrid…

 

”All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock in the evening”, Snape states seriously. ”No student is to leave the dormitories after that time — no exceptions — and you will all be escorted to each of your classes by a teacher… No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher… All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed—”

 

”What —!” Flint gasps and is immediately hushed by Adrian who is, as always, squeezed into his side on one of the sofas. 

 

”— And there will be no more evening activities”, Snape finishes in a loud voice, sending a glare Flint’s way. ”Unless the culprit behind these attacks is apprehended soon, I regret to inform you that it is likely Hogwarts will be closed.”

 

”Closed? For _how long_?” someone pipes up.

 

”Indefinitely”, Snape says curtly. ”So I urge anyone who thinks they might know _anything,_ anything at all, to please come forward. Thank you.”

 

”We have to tell him”, Harry whispers to Draco. 

 

” _Now_?” Draco hisses. 

 

”We agreed—!”

 

”I know, but… Yeah, alright. Get the diary.”

 

”It’s in my bag”, Harry mumbles. 

 

He starts digging through his book bag, but he can’t seem to find the diary so finally he turns the bag upside down and pours its entire contents out on the floor between his feet… _It’s gone…_  

 

”Where is it?” 

 

”It was here — I don’t understand —”

 

”When did you last see it —?”

 

”I always keep it in my bag!” 

 

”You sleep with under your pillow”, Draco counters and Harry immediately feels his cheeks flush. ”Maybe you left it there this morning?”

 

”Maybe…” Harry mutters. 

 

They run up to their dormitory and Harry quickly lifts his pillow and covers, but the diary isn’t in his bed. He crouches down and checks underneath the bed as well, just in case it could have fallen to the floor during the night, but it’s not there either… _Last time I remember seeing it was when I put it in my bag_ , Harry thinks… _But not this morning, it was yesterday_ —

 

”Quidditch practise!” he exclaims and stands up again. ”Last night. I left the bag in the changing rooms!”

 

”You don’t think —?”

 

”Someone must have stolen it from my bag, when we were out on the pitch!”

 

”But… _Why_?” Draco says with a frown. ”Why would anyone _want_ to take it?”

 

”Whoever had it in the first place, whoever tried to get rid of it, they must have found out I had it and decided to steal it back from me —!”

 

”Okay…” Draco says slowly. ”So what do we do now? We can’t go to Snape. Not without proof. There’s no way he’ll believe us without the diary. If anything he’ll give us detention for disregarding the new rules five seconds after he told us about them…”

 

Harry nods. Draco’s right. They can’t go to Snape or any of the teachers, not without the diary… If only there was some way of pointing them in the right direction, without them knowing about it… Maybe plant a clue — No, that’s stupid —

 

”Hang on”, Draco says. ”We could talk to Hagrid.”

 

”What? Are you mad —?”

 

”No, listen! If we convince the oaf to turn himself in, we don’t need any proof. No-one will even know we had anything to do with it. We were in the dorms the whole time, Hagrid just developed a conscience!”

 

”Okay, and how exactly are we going to convince Hagrid to turn himself in?”

 

”Blackmail”, Draco says simply and shrugs. 

 

” _We don’t have any proof!_ ” Harry exclaims in exasperation. 

 

”He doesn’t know that”, Draco says with a smirk. ”Come on, it’s worth a try… If he doesn’t believe us, we’ll just have to make him feel bad about all the people that have been attacked so far and express our worry that the next one will be killed, just like that girl fifty years ago…”

 

Harry finally agrees to Draco’s plan and digs out James’ old invisibility cloak from the bottom of his trunk and drapes it over the both of them. They slowly and carefully make their way through the castle, mindful of all the teachers, prefects and ghosts now patrolling all the corridors. Finally they make it to the Entrance Hall without knocking into anyone and slip out the doors. 

 

They keep the cloak on until they reach Hagrid’s hut. Harry rolls it up and stuffs it into his pocket while Draco raps on the door. Immediately Hagrid’s bloodhound starts barking and howling on the other side of the door and Draco shrinks back and hides behind Harry’s shoulder. 

 

The door flies open and Harry finds himself staring at the end of a loaded crossbow and swallows… _Yeah, this was a great plan… Let’s blackmail the giant with the crossbow…_

 

”H-Hi Hagrid…”

 

”Harry? What’re yeh — is that Draco Malfoy?”

 

”Y-Yeah, Draco and I just wanted to — eh — to talk to you?”

 

”Oh. Right. Well, I dunno — not the best time —”

 

”It will only take a minute”, Draco pipes up, still half-hidden behind Harry’s shoulder. 

 

”Oh, all righ’ then… C’mon in with yeh…”

 

Harry and Draco squeeze past the half-giant and enter the hut. Harry hoists himself up on one of the stools at the large table in the middle of the big room and gives Draco a glare when the blonde starts wiping the seat of one of the other stools with his sleeve before clambering onto it, but Harry shouldn’t have worried about it; Hagrid hardly seems to notice their presence, in fact he barely seems to be aware of his own actions as he goes about making them all tea and nearly extinguishing the fire in the process… Harry notices he keeps glancing out the window as well… 

 

”So, did you hear about the attacks?” Harry asks him and winces as the half-giant fumbles with the massive kettle and half of the content splashes onto the floor.

 

Hagrid grunts an affirmative and pours the boys a mug of hot water each, having completely forgotten the tea bags, but Draco thanks him politely anyway and makes a show of sipping the steaming water. Harry just shakes his head at him, then turns back to Hagrid. 

 

”We wanted to talk to you about —”

 

Hagrid turns away to cut a slice out of a huge fruitcake, but a sudden knock on the door startles him and he drops the whole thing on the floor. Harry and Draco whip their heads around and stare at each other in panic. Harry hops down from the stool and quickly pulls the invisibility cloak out of his pocket again. He tosses the flimsy fabric over himself and Draco, making sure it covers both of their feet before backing them into the furthest corner of the hut. 

 

Hagrid grabs his crossbow again and flings the door open again.

 

” _Good evening, Hagrid…_ ” 

 

Hagrid immediately lowers the crossbow again and steps aside. Albus Dumbledore walks in followed by a short, stocky wizard that Harry has only ever seen in the Prophet but recognises immediately; it’s the Minster of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, wearing a purple travel cloak with a matching bowler hat. 

 

The parts of Hagrid’s face that are visible amidst the hair and beard have gone ashen and clammy and he watches the other two wizards anxiously as he puts the crossbow down next to the door again.

 

”Bad business, Hagrid”, Fudge says shortly. ”Very bad business — had to come — four attacks on Muggle-borns, I mean to say, things have gone far enough — Ministry’s got to act!”

 

”I never”, Hagrid croaks and looks to Dumbledore with imploring eyes. ”You know I’d never, Professor Dumbledore, Sir!”

 

”I want it understood, Cornelius… that Hagrid has my full confidence”, Dumbledore says calmly. 

 

”Look, Albus”, Fudge says and fidgets with his hat. ”Hagrid’s record is against him, it’s as simple as that. The school governors have been in touch, I have _got to_ take him —”

 

”Take me?” Hagrid repeats, his voice trembling. ”Take me where? Not — not Azkaban p-prison?”

 

”For a short stretch only”, Fudge says hurriedly, avoiding the half-giant’s glossy eyes. ”Not a punishment, you understand, just — just as a precaution!”

 

Suddenly there’s another loud rap on the door. This time Dumbledore walks over and opens it. Draco lets out a startled gasp and Harry quickly elbows him in the ribs. On the other side of the threshold is none other than Draco’s father himself, Lucius Malfoy. 

 

”Already here, Fudge”, the blonde wizard says with a satisfied smirk. ”Good, good…”

 

Completely ignorng Dumbledore and Fang’s low growls, he strides into the hut.

 

”What’re yeh doin’ here?” Hagrid says uncomfortably, throwing a worried glance toward the corner where Harry and Draco is hiding. ”Get outta my house!”

 

”Oh, my dear man”, Lucius says with a breathy chuckle. ”Please believe me, I take absolutely no pleasure being inside your — er — you call this a house?”

 

Draco shifts his feet uncomfortably and Harry elbows him again. 

 

”No, I simply called at the school and was told the Headmaster was here”, Lucius continues.

 

”And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” Dumbledore asks calmly, but his light-blue eyes seem to be flashing behind his half-moon glasses. 

 

”Dreadful thing, Dumbledore”, Lucius says and retrieves a roll of parchment from his sleeve and holds it out. ”But the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension. You’ll find all twelve signatures on it…”

 

”Oh, now, see here, Lucius”, Fudge stammers, looking alarmed. ”Dumbledore suspended… I don’t know… Last thing we want now… I mean to say, in this time of _crisis_ …”

 

”The suspension of the Headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge”, Lucius says smoothly. ”And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks… Well, you can imagine we’re concerned… We all have chidlren or grandchildren attending this school, after all…”

 

”Yes, I know, but… Look… Lucius, if Dumbledore can’t stop the attacks, then… I mean to say, who can?”

 

”That remains to be seen”, Lucius says and Harry thinks he couldn’t look less concerned about it, in fact he was more or less smiling. ”But all twelve of us have voted and it was unanimous, so…”

 

”An’ how many did yeh have ter threaten an’ blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?” Hagrid bellows furiously. 

 

”Dear, dear…” Lucius tuts. ”That temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid… I woud advice you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won’t like it at all.”

 

”Yeh can’ take Dumbledore, without him the muggle-borns won’ stand a chance —!” Hagrid roars.

 

”Calm down, Hagrid…” Dumbledore says quietly, without tearing his cold gaze away from Lucius. ”If the governors do indeed wish for me to step aside, I will… _However_ —”

 

Harry bites his lip to stop himself from gasping, because for one horrifying second he’d been sure that those light-blue eyes had flickered from Lucius face and landed straight on him and Draco, as if Dumbledore could see them, despite the invisibility cloak. 

 

”You will find that I will only _truly_ have left this school when none here are loyal to me… You will also find that _help_ will always be given at Hogwarts to those who _ask for it_ …”

 

There is a moment of tense silence. Lucius purses his lips and gives Dumbledore grave nod. 

 

”Admirable sentiments, indeed… I daresay we shall all miss your — er — highly individual way of running things, Albus…”

 

Striding over to the door, Lucius holds it open for Dumbledore and gives him another mocking bow as the older wizard brushes past him and exits the hut. Smirking at Fudge, Lucius disappears out the door as well. 

 

”Well, Hagrid…” Fudge mumbles, fidgeting with his hat. ”Let’s go, chap… No point delaying the inevitable, what…”

 

Hagrid stands up with a deep sigh, but before leaving he straightens up and speaks to the room at large, ”If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do is follow the spiders… That’s all I’m sayin’… Oh, and someone’ll need to feed Fang while I’m away… All righ’ I’m coming!” 

 

Fudge merely blinks owlishly at him. 

 

Harry and Draco waits until they’re certain Hagrid and Fudge have gone far enough away from the hut so they won’t hear them, before they remove the invisibility cloak. 

 

”Now what…” Harry says. 

 

”What do you mean?” Draco says. ”We don’t have to do _anything,_ it all worked out anyway!”

 

”But… With Dumbledore gone…”

 

”But they arrested Hagrid”, Draco counters. ”So it doesn’t matter!”

 

”I guess…”

 

”Come on, let’s get back to the dorm before Snape finds out we’re missing and gives us detentions every night until fifth year!”

 

The next morning they find out that the two girls who’d been attacked and taken to the hospital wing was Hermione Granger and a Ravenclaw prefect by the name of Penelope Clearwater. Harry looks over at the gryffindor table and feels a stab of sympathy at the morose looks on the Weasleys’ faces. 

 

Draco on the other hand couldn’t be more pleased, Harry thinks wryly, watching the blonde eagerly jot down a quick message on a piece of parchment. 

 

”I’m writing my mother”, he says excitedly. ”I need to tell her I’m the top of _all_ my classes now, you know, while it’s still true!”

 

”You better not let the gryffindors see you gloat about this”, Harry says. ”Ron will kill you…”

 

It’s during their last lesson if the day, Herbology, while pruning a Abyssinian Shrivelfig, that Harry notices several very large spiders scuttling across the lawn outside, heading in a line towards the Forbidden Forest. He pokes Draco in the arm and points them out, but the blonde just frowns and shrugs. 

 

”Remember what Hagrid said?” Harry hisses. ”He said to follow the spiders…”

 

”So?” Draco says and goes back to his own Shrivelfig and gives it a jab with his shears. ”I’m not going into the Forest. Especially because of that oaf. For all we know he just said that to lure us into danger…”

 

Harry somehow doubts Hagrid would do such a thing, but then again if he really is the one who’s been opening the Chamber and letting a monstrous spider loose on innocent students all this time then he obviously isn’t who Harry thought he was… 

 

”You’re not going either”, Draco says curtly, without tearing his eyes away from the plant in front of him. 

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”You’re not going into the Forest.”

 

”You can’t tell me what to do!” Harry says indignantly. 

 

”I’m not telling you, I’m asking you”, Draco says smoothly, then turns his silvery eyes on Harry and gives him the cutest pout he’s ever seen. ”Please?”

 

”What if it isn’t Hagrid?” Harry says stubbornly. 

 

”Only yesterday you were convinced it was Hagrid”, Draco says. ”Isn’t that why we risked detention, or expulsion, _or our lives_ , by leaving the castle after hours?”

 

”Our lives were not at risk”, Harry mutters. ”Stop being so melodramatic… I’m just saying…”

 

”Well, don’t. It’s none of our business. Just leave it to the grown-ups.”

 

”I just have a bad feeling…” Harry mumbles. 

 

He tries to forget about the whole thing, as Draco asked. But the very next day, while suffering through another Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, the anxious feeling returns to his gut. 

 

He keeps replaying the scene in his mind, trying to work out what it all means… Dumbledore looking right at him and saying he wouldn’t be _truly_ gone as long as there were people at Hogwarts who believed in him, and that _help would always be given to those who asked for it…_  

 

And then Hagrid telling them to follow the spiders into the Forbidden Forest… Harry isn’t any more keen on revisiting the Forest than Draco is, but his curiosity is eating away at him… 

 

The monster he’d seen in Riddle’s memory was definitely a spider of some sort, and Hagrid _had_ kept it as a pet… _But it escaped…_ Harry saw it escape… _So if that spider is now in the Forest, and not in the Chamber of Secret at all, then…_

 

_Then the spider isn’t Slytherin’s monster…_

 

_Which means Hagrid was innocent and the culprit is still at large, still in control of the real monster and the students are still in danger…_

 

”Come now, why the long faces?” Lockhart exclaims, beaming at them all from the front of the class. ”Don’t you people realise the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away!”

 

If anything could convince Harry that his suspiscion was right, then Lockhart stating the opposite was at the top of the list. The more the man tries to persuade them all that the danger has passed, the more determined Harry gets. He will sneak out of the castle tonight and head into the Forest. He will take his invisibility cloak and he will find that spider — he will find out _the truth_ of what happened fifty years ago!

 

As soon as the other boys have gone to sleep, Harry slides out of bed and gets dressed as quietly as possible. He slips the invisibility cloak on in the Common Room and sneaks out, dodging patrolling prefects and teachers all the way to the Entrance Hall where he waits until the coast is clear before carefully sliding the lock back on the large oak doors and edging outside through the tiny crack. 

 

He runs across the moonlit grounds, the cloak fluttering around his ankles. When he reaches the edge of the Forest, he lights his wand with a _Lumos_ spell and then, taking a deep breath to steel himself he ventures into the darkness of the Forest. 

 

As soon as his eyes get used to the darkness, he starts seeing movement on the ground in front of him and his heart starts hammering with excitement… Hundreds of spiders scuttle away from his wand light and hurry deeper into the Forest… He follows them, listening intensely for any noises…

 

Deeper and deeper into the Forest, the trees grow so close together the starry sky is completely hidden from view overhead and Harry’s cloak keep snagging on the branches. Deciding it’s more trouble than it’s worth, Harry removes the cloak and stuffs it into his pocket before continuing the trek. 

 

After another twenty minutes, Harry stops to catch his breath and stoop down to look for spiders when he suddenly hears a clicking noise behind him. Heart twisting in his chest, he quickly wheels around, brandishing his glowing wand — but before he can even think of a curse, something long, thick and hairy has grabbed him around the middle and lifted him right off the ground! 

 

With a startled yell, he starts swinging his arms around wildly, but only hits empty space… Whatever is holding him up is out of his reach and keeps dangling him the air… If only he knew in which direction to point his wand, he might be able to hit it with a Disarming Charm or a —

 

The thing starts shaking him — _no, it’s moving, it’s running_ — the wind is whipping him in the face — _It’s taking me, it’s running away with me, this is it, they’ll never find me_ —

 

Suddenly they reach a clearing of some sort and the creature drops Harry on the ground. The wind is knocked out of him and he gasps. Flipping over onto his back, he has one moment to notice the stars overhead before his surroundings register and his stomach drops… 

 

 _Spiders…_ Nothing like tiny ones he’d followed into the Forest — _Tiny compared to these, that is…_ When he was following them, they’d been the largest spiders he’s ever seen… Until now —

 

These spiders are gigantic, larger than the monstrous spider he saw in Riddle’s memory even… Harry has seen smaller _cars_ … They have massive pincers that click threateningly, or excitedly maybe… _hungrily maybe…_ Huge, black eyes staring at him… Eight to each spider… _That’s a lot of eyes… I’m so dead…_

 

”Aragog!” the creature above him calls out into the darkness, pincers clicking with each syllable. ”ARAGOG!”

 

From the middle of a dome-shaped web, yet another spider appears, twice as big as the biggest ones in the group and Harry gapes in horror. 

 

”What is it?” the spider Aragog says. 

 

”A human!”

 

”Is it Hagrid?”

 

”No. Stranger.”

 

”Kill it then. I was sleeping—”

 

”I’m a friend of Hagrid’s!” Harry shouts quickly, thinking on his feet. ”I — I was sent here by him — He — He needs help!”

 

”Hagrid has never sent humans into our hollow before”, Aragog says slowly, all eight eyes fixed on Harry and flashing darkly. 

 

”He’s in trouble — up at the school, there have been attacks and — and — they think Hagrid did it, like — like last time!”

 

”But Hagrid didn’t do anything”, Aragog says. ”They believed that _I_ was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets and that Hagrid opened the Chamber and set me free. That is why they made him leave the school.”

 

”Yeah”, Harry chokes out, his chest tight and heart hammering hard. ”And you… You didn’t come from the Chamber of Secrets?”

 

”I—!” Aragog says. ”I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveller gave me to Hagrid when I was just an egg. Hagrid cared for me. He hid me in a cupboard in the castle and fed me scraps from the table. When I was discovered and blamed for the death of that human girl, Hagrid protected me. He took me into the Forest and I have lived here ever since. Hagrid even found me a wife, and as you can see, our family has grown… all thanks to Hagrid’s goodness… He is a good friend…”

 

”Yes”, Harry says, voice strangled with fear. ”He is… And now — now he needs your help —”

 

”My help? But how?”

 

”Well, if you didn’t kill that girl all those years ago —?”

 

”I never attacked anyone! That girl was found in a bathroom on the second floor, but I never saw any part of the castle except the cupboard in the dungeons where Hagrid kept me! Our kind prefers the dark and the quiet…”

 

”Right… Right, of course… And do you know what _did_ kill that girl—?”

 

”Yes. The creature that lives in the castle is an ancient one that we spiders fear above all others. As soon as I sensed its presence, I begged Hagrid to let me leave.”

 

”Wh-what was it…?”

 

A chorus of clicking and rustling erupts around them and Harry flinches, half expecting to be suddenly ripped apart from all sides, but nothing happens. 

 

”We do not speak of it”, Aragog says fiercely. ”We do not name it.”

 

”O-Okay, but —” he glances around at the spiders around him, sure they’re a lot closer than they were only minutes ago. ”But then — What do I t-tell the authorities th-then?” 

 

”The authorities?” Aragog repeats, his eight eyes blinking slowly. 

 

”Well…” Harry says, trying to sound confident despite his heart’s valiant efforts to jump right out of his chest. ”If I’m going to help Hagrid, I’m going to have to convince everyone that there is another — er — that it wasn’t you in the Chamber of Secrets — that the monster is still at the castle and Hagrid is innocent.”

 

”And how are you going to do that?”

 

”Well, I… I’ll just explain… it…” Harry trails off awkwardly, shivering as cold sweat breaks out over his skin and chills him. 

 

”And who will listen to a little boy like yourself? No, I think this is just ploy to escape out of the Forest, but I cannot deny my children fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst…”

 

”I’m not just some boy!” Harry blurts out. ”I’m — I’m Harry Potter!”

 

”Harry Potter…” Aragog repeats slowly. ”The Boy Who Lived…”

 

”That’s — That’s right! That’s me!” Harry says hurriedly. 

 

His mind is reeling, trying to come up with something — _anything —_ that will convince these creatures that he’s worth keeping alive, but the only thing that comes to mind is _His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad…_  

 

”I’m — I’m famous — I’m —” 

 

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard,_

_I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord_

 

”— I’ve defeated the Dark Lord — twice!”

 

The only thing that can be heard is the clicking of pincers and Harry holds his breath, tensing every muscle in preparation, getting ready to bolt or struggle, to fight for his life… _I still have my wand… I can still make it out of here alive…_

 

”And you really think you will be able to help Hagrid?” Aragog says finally.

 

”Yes”, Harry exclaims. ”Definitely. I’m the only one who can. I’m the only one who believes him, you see. So, I’m his only chance. They’ve already taken him to Azkaban, and… And they will most likely give him the kiss, unless I… I go back to the castle right now and tell them the truth! I’m the only one who can save his life! Truly!”

 

The seconds of tense silence that follow are the longest of Harry’s life. But finally, the massive creature blinks its eight eyes and starts to slide backwards, back into its domed web and before it disappears from view it calls out to the others, ”Let the human go!”

 

Relief rushes into Harry and he collapses back onto the forest floor, his arms and legs shaking terribly… _Get it together,_ he tells himself. _Get up… Get out of here before they change their minds…_

 

He struggles to his feet and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other he starts making his way back out of the forest. It’s not until he slips back inside his dorm and collapses face down on top of his four-poster bed that he relaxes. 

 

”Where the Hell have you been?” a voice hisses in the darkness and he startles. ”Tell me you didn’t go into the Forbidden Forest by yourself in the middle of the night!”

 

Harry scrambles up to sitting, lighting his wand again and holding it over his head he can just make out Draco’s anxious face from the other bed. 

 

”I… I…”

 

”You’re unbelievable! You could have been killed!”

 

”I nearly was”, Harry says faintly. 

 

Draco joins Harry on his bed and Harry tells him about everything that happened in the forest. By the end of the story, he’s almost stopped shaking. 

 

”So you were right”, Draco says. ”Slytherin’s heir is free and the monster’s still on the loose.”

 

”Hey…” Harry says as a thought strikes him. ”Aragog said the girl was found in a bathroom. The girl that got killed fifty years ago, she was killed in a bathroom on the second floor.”

 

”So?”

 

”So… What if she never left?”

 

Draco frowns in confusion. 

 

”Come on…” Harry says eagerly and scrambles off the bed and shaking out his invisibility cloak again. ”I have to check something out — are you coming with me?”

 

”Now? You were almost just killed, and you’re already off again!”

 

”It’s okay, it won’t be dangerous, I promise!”

 

The look Draco gives him would suggest he’s not inclined to believe that, but he joins Harry under the cloak anyway and wordlessly grabs his hand. Harry smiles at him and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 

 

They make their way out of the dungeons and up to the second floor. 

 

”Where are we going?” Draco whispers. 

 

”Over here… Girls’ bathroom…”

 

”What, why?”

 

”You’ll see… C’mon…”

 

Harry carefully slides the door open, mindful of the ’Out of Order’ sign that swings precariously on its peg. Once inside the bathroom, he removes the invisibility cloak from himself and Draco. The ghost girl is perched on top of the cistern of one of the toilets and looks up in surprise when Harry pushes the door closed again with a click. 

 

”Oh, it’s you again…” she says. ”What do you want this time?”

 

”Hi, Myrtle”, Harry says and smiles kindly. ”I actually came to see you.”

 

”Really?” she says, a silver blush making her cheeks seem less transparent. 

 

”Yes, I wanted to ask you something… If you don’t mind…”

 

”What?” she murmurs.

 

”I wanted to ask you how you died.”

 

Myrtle straightens up proudly with such force she floats several feet into the air and she shakes he pigtails with a giggle, ”Oooohh it was _dreaful_! I happened right in here, you know… I died in this very cubicle. I remember it so well… I’d hidden in here because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses — I was crying actually — and then I heard somebody come come in, they said something that sounded really funny, I think it must have been a different language — anyway, I could tell it was a _boy_ speaking, so I unlocked the door to tell him to go use the boys’ toilet instead, and then —” she swells a little more and her face shines like she’s describing falling in love or receiving an honour mention or something equally pleasant, except… ”Then I _died_ …”

 

”How?” Harry presses. 

 

”I’m not sure”, she says, gazing over at the sinks behind Harry and Draco. ”All I remember is seeing a pair of big, yellow eyes… And then my whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away… And then I came back — I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see — Oh, was she ever sorry for having laughed at my glasses—!”

 

”Yes, that’s great”, Harry says quickly. ”But where did you see the eyes? And could you see anything else? A face? Body?”

 

”Oh, it was over there somewhere”, she says and points towards the sinks vaguely. 

 

”Harry, we need to get back”, Draco says. 

 

”Hang on…” Harry hurries over to the sinks and starts examining them, but they look just like ordinary sinks. 

 

”We need to go”, Draco insists. ”Now…”

 

”I think this is it — here somewhere — this is the entrance to the Chamber — I’m sure —”

 

”All the more reason to leave!” Draco snaps. ”Or haven’t you seen enough monsters for one night? What’s wrong with you! We’re going back to the dorm _now_! You can tell Snape everything tomorrow!”

 

”Tomorrow it might be too late!” Harry snaps. 

 

”Fine, let’s go tell him right now! But _let’s go_!”

 

”Okay, fine…” Harry mumbles and with a final, furtive glance at the nearest sink he gets to his feet again and drapes the invisibility cloak over the both of them. ”See you later, Myrtle!”

 

They make their way to the staff room at the other end of the castle and Harry removes the cloak and hides it behind his back while Draco raises his hand to knock on the door. 

 

 _”All teachers return to the staff room”_ , McGonagall’s amplified voice suddenly rings out in the silence and echoes around them; Draco jerks his hand back as if burned and whips his head around to stare at Harry in panic. _”Immediately, please.”_

 

Thinking fast, Harry drapes the cloak over the two of them again and quickly guides Draco to the side of the door. They wait in tense silence. 

 

Professors Flitwick and Sinistra are the first to arrive, and as soon as they’re through the door to the staff room, Harry pushes Draco in front of him and follows them. They back into a corner, still hidden under the cloak, and watch as the room fills up with more teachers. 

 

”Why are we hiding?” Draco whispers. 

 

”I want to find out what’s going on…” Harry whispers back. 

 

Some of the teachers exchange worried looks, others look confused or irritated. Finally, McGonagall arrives and a hush immediately spreads through the room. 

 

”It has happened”, she says in her most authorative voice. ”A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.”

 

A chorus of gasps and terrified whispers ripples through the small crowd. Professor Flitwick lets out a squeal. Professor Sprout claps both hands over her mouth and shakes her head in horror. Snape is the only one, except McGonagall herself, who remains stoic, but Harry can tell he’s gripping the chair in front of him particularly hard, his knuckles whitening. 

 

”How can you be sure?” he asks McGonagall quietly. 

 

”The heir of Slytherin left another message”, she replies curtly, but her face is whiter than Harry has ever seen it and her lips are trembling slightly. ”Right underneath the first one.”

 

”And what does it say?” Snape asks, even quieter than before, as if he doesn’t really want to ask at all. 

 

”It says… _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_ ”, McGongall’s voice finally breaks.

 

Flitwick burts into tears and Madam Hooch sinks limply onto the nearest seat, as if Lockhart had removed all the bones in her body… _Speaking of which,_ Harry thinks, scanning the crowd, _where_ is _Lockhart?_

 

”Who is it?” Hooch says hoarsely. ”Which student?”

 

”Ginerva Weasley”, McGonagall says. ”I did the head-count myself. She’s the only student missing from gryffindor.”

 

”Is everyone else accounted for?” Hooch says and looks between the other Heads of Houses and they all nod. ”That’s something, at least…”

 

”Yes”, McGonagall says. ”We’ll have to send them all home in the morning… I’m afraid this is the end of Hogwarts —”

 

The door to the staff room bangs open suddenly and several people jump, including Harry and Draco. For a second, Harry almost expected to see Dumbledore waltzing in, but it’s not Dumbledore… It’s Lockart, and he’s beaming. 

 

”So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?”

 

The other teachers look at him with glares ranging from irritation to pure hatred. Harry would think it funny if the circumstances were different. Lockhart, as always, is completely oblivious to the less than positive reactions he’s getting. 

 

”Just the man”, Snape’s silky voice slithers through the silence and he slowly steps out from behind the chair and approaches the clueless Lockhart with a small, cold smile. ”The very man… A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.”

 

Lockhart blinks owlishly at the other man, his own grin fading rapidly as Snape’s smile grows. 

 

”M-My m-moment? I’m sure I don’t unders—”

 

”That’s right, Gilderoy”, Professor Sprout says. ”Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber is?”

 

”I — well, I —”

 

”Yes, didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was in it?” Flitwick pipes up.

 

”D-Did I? I don’t recall —”

 

”I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested”, Snape says smoothly, sliding another step closer to Lockhart who cringes back. ”Didn’t you say that the whole affair had been bungled and that you should have been given free reign from the first?”

 

”Well, that’s settled then”, McGonagall says briskly. ”We’ll leave you to deal with the monster, Gilderoy. Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of the way and you’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free reign at last.”

 

Lockhart stares around at his stony-faced colleagues helplessly, but no-one comes to his rescue. 

 

”V-Very w-well then…” he says in a small voice, lower lip trembling slightly. ”I’ll — I’ll be in my office, getting — getting ready!”

 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, McGonagall sniffs haughtily and turns back to the others. 

 

”Well, that’s got _him_ out of the way, at least… The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students of what’s happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow and instruct them to pack their belongings immediately. Will someone please contact Miss Weasley’s parents, as well?”

 

”I’ll do it”, Sinistra says solemly. 

 

”Thank you, Aurora.”

 

As the teachers start moving, Draco starts prodding Harry’s arm insistently and gestures towards the door. Harry nods and they quickly make their way around the room, keeping as close to the wall as possible. They manage to slip through the door before Snape and start running towards the dungeons. 

 

”Sa- Salazar!” Harry gasps as they thunder to a stop outside the Slytherin Common Room and the wall starts to rearrange itself. 

 

”Go, go, _go_ —!” Draco hisses and pushes Harry in front of him through the doorway. 

 

”He’ll know — The door won’t seal itself fast enough —” Harry gasps, looking over his shoulder, sure he can hear footsteps approaching behind them.

 

”Doesn’t matter”, Draco says, pulling on his arm. ”He won’t know who — if we just — get into the dorm — come _on_!”

 

They thunder inside the dorm and collapse on their beds, quickly getting under their covers. 

 

”Wha’s goin’ on?” Seamus croaks from his bed. 

 

”Nothing!” Harry and Draco say in unison. 

 

”Harry? Draco?”

 

”Go back to sleep!” Harry hisses.

 

”Wha’re y—? You’re not having sex are you—?”

 

”Shut the Hell _up_ , Finnigan!” Draco snaps furiously. 

 

”What’s going on?” Blaise grumbles from somewhere in the darkness. ”Will you keep it down, I’m trying to sleep!”

 

”Tell it to Malfoy and Potter!” Seamus grouses. ”They’re the ones shagging and waking everyone up!”

 

”SHUT UP!” Draco yells. 

 

”What… Is going on… Here…?” an all-too-familiar voice murmurs. 

 

Everyone falls silent immediately. Harry’s stomach sinks. They’re going to get caught. He’ll be serving detention until his sixth year. 

 

The lanterns roar to life, bathing the dormitory in a warm, green glow. Professor Snape is standing just inside the door, his dark eyes narrowed and lips pressed together. 

 

”Malfoy and Finnigan are fighting”, Blaise mutters churlishly. 

 

” _I_ didn’t do _anything_ , it’s Malfoy and Potter!” Seamus protests. 

 

” _You’re_ the one yelling!”

 

”Only ’cause them love birds over there woke me up!”

 

” _Enough_!” Snape snaps. ”Everybody in the Common Room _now_!”

 

”I swear to Merlin, Finnigan”, Draco whispers furiously as soon as the professor has left the room and jabs his finger into the Irish boy’s chest. ”If you breathe a word about Harry and me outside this dorm, I will have you expel—”

 

”—Don’t you threaten me! I can snap you like a twing!” Seamus hollers. 

 

”Will both of you stop fighting!” Harry snaps. ”Snape will kill all of us — _let’s go_!”

 

Snape stands like a grim-looking statue in front of the fireplace until every single slytherin has taken a seat somewhere in the Common Room and only when he has everyone’s undivided attention does he relay the information about a student having been captured and the remaining students being evacuated in the morning. 

There is a series of muted gasps and whimpers amongst the students and they exchange worried looks. Even Pansy, who usually waves away any talk of monsters with a nonchalant hand wave, sure of her own safety because of her pureblood status, looks anxious. 

 

”There is no need to be afraid”, Snape says. ”All attacks have taken place in corridors, so as long as you stay in your dorms or the Common Room, you will be safe… Now, go pack your belongings and try to get some rest. I will come and collect you in the morning and escort you off the school grounds and the Hogwarts Express will be waiting to take you home… Prefects, please help the younger students…”

 

Harry and Draco look at each other. 

 

”And make sure no-one leaves the Common Room.”

 

Harry whips his head around and finds Snape’s narrowed eyes fixed on him. He swallows thickly and barely suppresses the impulse to duck his head in submission. Snape holds the eye contact for another tense second, then finally turns away and strides across the room towards the door.

 

”Professor —!” Harry blurts out. 

 

Wrenching his arm free when Draco grabs his sleeve, Harry jumps up from the sofa. Snape stops abruptly and swirls around to face him and Harry only hesitates for a split second before jogging up to him.

 

”I… I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

 

Snape narrows his eyes and they bore into Harry’s like the man can see right through him, right to his inner most thoughts. It takes all of Harry’s self-control not to flinch and turn his face away. 

 

”Very well, if it’s so important…” the Potions Master murmurs. ”Come with me.”

 

Snape leads the way to his office at the end of the corridor and taps the lock with his wand before holding the door open for Harry who steps inside. The walls are lined with shelves, some of them filled with peeling old textbooks but most are stacked with jars and boxes of ingredients. Snape’s personal potions supplies, Harry guesses. 

 

”Have a seat”, the man mutters and strides over to the desk, standing behind it and waiting for Harry to sit down first before dropping down in his own high back chair. 

 

Harry is reminded of the chairs in Dumbledore’s office that were fluffy and comfortable. Snape’s choice of furniture is fittingly the opposite of Dumbledore’s. It makes Harry smile, but he quickly schools his face into a serious frown when he catches Snape’s eye. 

 

”What did you need to tell me?” Snape says. ”And this had better not be about the childish bickering I witnessed in your dormitory earlier.”

 

”No, Sir”, Harry says. ”I think I’ve found the entrance to the Chamber.”

 

Snape blinks. Whatever he had expected, it clearly hadn’t been that… 

 

”Where?”

 

Harry releases a shaky breath. The fact that Snape hasn’t questioned him as to why he thinks he’s found the entrance, but seems to take him seriously, makes the whole situation seem… Bigger, somehow. More real. 

 

”In a bathroom on the second floor. It’s always out of order because there’s this ghost —”

 

”Moaning Myrtle.”

 

”Yeah. She’s the girl who got killed the last time the Chamber was opened.”

 

Snape’s eyes snap back to Harry’s. 

 

”I talked to her. She told me”, Harry adds. 

 

”She told you…”

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

”That’s funny. When I talked to her she didn’t seem to remember much about how she was killed at all, except seeing a pair of big, yellow eyes.”

 

”Well… Yeah, but… No — No, wait — she also — she heard _a boy’s voice_! Someone was in that bathroom, _I think_ opening the chamber, and they were speaking a different language, Myrtle said — she said it sounded funny, and _I think_ — I think it was _parseltongue_! Just think about it!” Harry leans forward in his chair excitedly, the pieces all falling into place even as he’s speaking. ”If Slytherin built a secret chamber that only he himself or his heir could open, doesn’t it make sense that the way to open it would be to — to _speak in parseltongue_? Sir?”

 

Snape says nothing for a long moment and Harry’s excitement starts to simmer down again. Draco was right. Snape would want proof. If only Harry still had the diary…

 

”That does make sense”, Snape murmurs finally. ”And it also explains a few other things…”

 

”What… What things? Sir?”

 

”Well, that voice you’ve been hearing for one thing…”

 

”What?” Harry says, falling back against the backrest of his chair again, feeling at a loss.

 

”I took the liberty to check with Madam Pince what books Miss Granger had been reading before her attack. One of them had a page ripped out. Madam Pince was quite livid when she found out. But fortunately she was able to tell me what had been on that particular page — her memory is quite extraordinary — It was the section of the book describing an ancient creature known as a Basilisk… Have you heard of it?”

 

 _Ancient creature_ , Harry thinks with a jolt. _That’s what Aragog said, as well._

 

”No, Sir. What is it?”

 

”It’s a type of serpent… _A snake_ …”

 

”Snake…” Harry says breathlessly. ”So… That voice I heard… It was in fact—”

 

”A giant snake. Slytherin’s monster of choice. We should have guessed, really…”

 

”That’s why only I can hear it speak”, Harry says numbly. ”But… How has a giant snake been getting around the castle without anyone noticing?”

 

”If the entrance to the Chamber is indeed in a bathroom, I would think that would be obvious. Now… Unless you have any more information for me, I will escort you back to your dorm—”

 

”What? But—”

 

”I will make sure the information is passed on to—”

 

”Lockhart?” Harry exclaims incredulously. ”You’ve got to be kidding me! He’s completely useless!”

 

Snape’s chest swells slightly. Harry recognises it from all the other times he’s infuriated the man and knows he just swallowed a sigh or the impulse to snap something at him. But Harry doesn’t care! They don’t have time to sit around and wait for Lockhart to screw up first, before someone who’s actually qualified has a go. Ginny will be long dead by then!

 

”Not… Lockhart…” Snape says slowly. ”Dumbledore.”

 

”Oh…”

 

”As soon as the students have been safely evacuated—”

 

”What — No! — That’s in the morning! It might be too late then!”

 

”Harry—”

 

”What about Ginny! She might die during the night! She might be dying _right now_ as we’re sitting here _doing nothing_! We have to go right now!”

 

Snape stands up with such speed, Harry flinches. The man’s eyes are flashing furiously. 

 

”I am not going to ask you how you know the identity of the abducted student… I am not even going to ask you how you knew to talk to Moaning Myrtle… _I don’t want to know_ … I _am_ going to escort you back to your dormitory, and you _are_ going to stay there… _All night_ … And if I discover that you have left the safety of your dormitory — for _any reason_ — you _will_ recieve a year’s worth of detentions… _And_ I will schedule _every single one_ of those detentions for when the Slytherin team has practise, forcing Marcus to replace you… _Have I made myself clear?_ ”

 

”But —”

 

”NO BUTS!” Snape roars. ”Don’t make me floo your fathers, Pot- _Harry!_ ” 

 

Snape’s chest is heaving and his eyes are blazing. Harry just stares at him, hardly daring to blink. He’s never seen the man so angry. The closest he’s ever come was when Lockhart bungled up the spell to mend Harry’s broken arm, and even then he hadn’t raised his voice like this. Harry hangs his head and mumbles a _Sorry, Sir_.

 

”Now. I don’t want to hear another word”, Snape says once he’s got his temper back under control, his voice dangerously low but eyes still black with fury, Harry notices when he glances up quickly. ”You will go to your dormitory… You will pack your things… You. Will. Go. To. Bed.”

 

Harry nods. 

 

”Good”, Snape says shortly and strides over to the door. 

 

Harry follows him silently, feeling like a kicked puppy and probably looking like one too. 

 

Snape mutters the password to the Slytherin Common Room and gestures for Harry to enter first, then follows him inside. Several older students are sitting in the Common Room, talking in hushed voices or playing games to distract themselves from everything that’s going on. They all look up curiously when Harry and Snape enter and Harry feels his face flush when Snape continues to walk towards the second year boys’ dormitory instead of just dropping him off in the Common Room… _I bet he’s going stand over my bed and make sure I change into my pyjamas as well_ , he thinks bitterly. 

 

He doesn’t, but he does remain in the doorway until Harry has walked over to his bed and sat down. With one last sweeping glance over the other beds in the dorm, Snape gives Harry a curt nod and leaves, sliding the door closed as quietly as possible. 

 

As soon as the door has clicked shut, the other boys stop pretending to sleep and sit up eagerly. Harry looks between them and feels slightly amused despite everything. 

 

”Well?” Seamus demands. ”What happened?”

 

”What did you tell them?” Harry asks Draco.

 

”Most of it”, he says with a shrug. ”What did Severus say?”

 

”He believed me. But I think he’d already figured most of it out himself. Also, he’d figured out what the monster is…”

 

The other boys gasp in excitement and crawl a little closer to the edges of their beds. 

 

”It’s a — er — Basilisk”, Harry says. ”You guys know what that is?”

 

”Yeah”, Draco says breathlessly. ”It’s a serpent, but huge…”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”That’s why I could hear it talk. It’s essentially a snake, isn’t it, so it speaks parseltongue.”

 

”A Basilisk?” Blaise says. ”I thought they were mythological creatures? I didn’t think they actually existed?” 

 

”Well, apparantly they do…”

 

”They can live for hundreds and hundreds of years”, Draco says. ”So it fits… And it will literally kill you just by looking at you! And that ghost girl, she said the last thing she saw before she died was a pair of big eyes!”

 

”But how come no-one’s been killed this time then?” Blaise says. ”They’ve all been petrified, no-one’s actually died… Did they not look in its eyes for long enough, or something?”

 

”That wouldn’t matter”, Draco says. ”All it would take is a split second… But maybe…”

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

”Maybe they didn’t look it in the eyes at all, maybe they — I don’t know — just looked _at_ it or —”

 

”Creevey had his camera up”, Harry says, remembering suddenly. ”Maybe he saw the basilisk through the camera lens!”

 

”And Finch-Fletchly must have seen it through Nearly Headless Nick!” Draco says eagerly. ”What about the others? Mrs Norris?”

 

”There was lots of water on the floor that night — remember? — maybe she just saw the basilisk’s reflection!”

 

”I heard they found a mirror next to Clearwater and Granger!” Seamus chips in. 

 

”Yeah, yeah, yeah”, Blaise says. ”But what else did Snape say, Harry? What’s he going to do about it?”

 

Harry immediately feels his excitement deflate again and sits back heavily against the headboard of his bed. 

 

”Nothing. He’s going to make sure all the students are safely evacuated from the castle in the morning, just like he said in the Common Room, and then he’s going to contact Dumbledore and tell him everything… But by then it might be too late for the Weasley girl, won’t it? All night in the Chamber with a basilisk? I don’t know what Snape’s thinking…”

 

”Why do you care about the Weaslette?” Draco says with a suspiscious frown. 

 

”What do you mean?” Harry snaps. ”Why do I care if a girl _dies_? Oh, I dunno, maybe ’cause I have _heart_?”

 

”Nevermind”, Draco mumbles and looks down sheepishly. ”You’re right…”

 

 _Yeah, I’m right,_ Harry thinks passionately. _I can’t just sit here and let Ron’s sister die down there! I don’t care if I never get to play Quidditch again — I have to do something!_

 

Mind made up, Harry jumps off the bed and shakes out the invisibility cloak with determination. Draco watches him with huge, terrified eyes and before Harry has even opened his mouth the blonde is shaking his head furiously. 

 

”I have t—”

 

”I’ll tell on you!” Draco exclaims. ”I’ll — I’ll scream — right now!”

 

”Draco!”

 

”No!” the blonde yells panic-stricken. ”You’ll get yourself killed, I won’t let you!”

 

”I have to do _something_!”

 

Draco scrambles off the bed and grabs Harry by the arms and stares into his face with huge, imploring eyes.

 

”You have done! You’ve told Snape, now let the grown-ups deal with it — _please,_ Harry!”

 

”Harry, mate”, Seamus says hesitantly. ”There’s nothing you can do.”

 

”I can save her”, Harry says stubbornly. ”I know where the entrance to the Chamber is and I think I know how to open it. If I’m right, not even Dumbledore will be able to open it. It has to be me. So I have to at least try and save her.”

 

” _Why_ does it have to be you?” Draco demands. ”You’re just a _kid_ —!”

 

”I’m the only one in this castle, besides the Heir of Slytherin, who can speak parseltongue! And I think that’s how you open the Chamber!”

 

”If the basilisk doesn’t kill you, Snape will…” Blaise mutters. 

 

Harry looks over at the other boy. His eyes are calculating and Harry knows he’s on his side. 

 

”So cover for me”, he says. 

 

Blaise says nothing, just keeps looking at Harry appraisingly. Draco looks between the two of them anxiously and shakes his head at Blaise. 

 

”We can keep a lookout”, Crabbe grunts suddenly from the corner, surprising everyone. ”The Heir might show up, right?”

 

”Yeah, right”, Harry says, stunned that Crabbe had thought of something he’d missed himself. 

 

” _Stop encouraging him!_ ” Draco shouts. ”I’ll tell on _all of you_ — you’ll all get expelled — and my father will have your parents fired—!”

 

”Oh, give it a rest”, Seamus snaps. ”What’cho want us to do, hold him down so he can’t leave?”

 

”I _am_ leaving”, Harry says and shoulders past Draco. ”But everyone else stay here. There’s no point in all of us getting — er — detention—”

 

”No”, Draco chokes and runs up to him. 

 

For a moment Harry thinks he’s going to try and block the door, or maybe try to physically restrain him. But the blonde just bats a stray tear from his cheek and takes a deep breath. 

 

”What are you doing?” Harry says with a frown. 

 

”I’m coming with you—”

 

”The Hell you are, I said stay here—!”

 

”You are _not_ going alone!”

 

 _We’re wasting time,_ Harry thinks in frustration. 

 

”I’m coming with you”, Draco repeats. ”Or you’re not going at all.”

 

”Fine!” 

 

Harry puts the cloak over the both of them and turns the door handle.

 

” _Think this is the first time the Sorting Hat has made a mistake?_ ” they hears Blaise say conversationally, before the door swings shut behind them. 

 

Harry half expects to find Snape lurking in the corridor outside the Common Room, or stationed outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. But he’s nowhere to be seen. None of the teachers are. _They must be really scared,_ Harry thinks and feels his stomach churn. _Am I insane or what?_

 

 _No, it’s the right thing to do_ , he tells himself. _I’m the only one who can open it. I_ have to _go._

 

Moaning Myrtle is floating around over the stalls when they enter the bathroom. She visibly perks up when they remove the invisibility cloak. 

 

”Oh, hello Harry!”

 

”Hi Myrtle”, Harry mumbles. ”Have you seen anyone else come in here tonight?”

 

”Not since sun down”, she says brightly. ”I don’t know about before then. I was in the Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor—”

 

”Okay, thanks”, Harry says and walks over to the sinks. 

 

Crouching down, he starts to examine the pipes underneath the one Myrtle had pointed to the last time they were in here. And that’s when he finds it — a tiny snake scratched into the copper of one of the pipes — stomach lurching but mind reeling with excitement, Harry quickly stands up and turns the tap. Nothing happens. 

 

”That tap’s never worked”, Myrtle says pleasantly. 

 

”I think this is it… Somehow…” Harry mumbles.

 

”Then say something”, Draco suggest, although he looks terrified at the prospect. ”Something in parseltongue.”

 

”Ehm, right, yeah… Parseltongue…”

 

Harry realises with a pang that he doesn’t exactly know _how_ to speak parseltongue, or how to start anyway. In Duelling Club he’d thought he’d been speaking English the whole time… He needed a snake… Maybe if he asks Draco to conjure one again? 

 

 _Or, wait_ … Harry crouches down next to the sink again and brushes his fingertips against the scratches in the pipe… _Maybe that’s why this is here…_

 

Focusing on the image of the snake, Harry tells it to _Open up_ … Nothing happens. He looks over at Draco who simply shakes his head. 

 

_Okay, try again… Really focus… Pretend it’s a real snake…_

 

” _Open up_ ”, he says again, but this time he feels a rasping sensation in his throat. 

 

The tap above him starts glowing bright white and then begins to spin quickly. Harry backs away, staring at it… _It worked… It really worked…_ The whole sink begins to move and suddenly sinks and disappears down a huge hole in the ground. 

 

Harry steps up to the edge and looks down. It looks like a huge pipe… So that’s how the Basilisk has been moving around inside the castle… 

 

He sits down and lets his legs dangle over the edge, then looks over his shoulder at Draco who is standing as though petrified just inside the door. 

 

”You should go get Snape”, Harry says. ”Or anyone. Go get help.”

 

”I… I t-told you, I’m n-not letting you go alone!”

 

”We’re going to need help. You were right, we’re just kids.”

 

”Then come with me!”

 

”I’m just going to go ahead and check it out, see if I can find Ginny…”

 

”No—”

 

”I promise I won’t do anything reckless, I’ll wait for you to return with the teachers!”

 

Draco hesitates. Harry gives him an encouraging smile, then scooches forward and pushes off the edge before the other boy can protest.

 

He rushes downwards, further and further through the pipe until he’s sure he must be deeper underneath the school than even the dungeons. Then the pipe evens out and he shoots out and lands heavily on a the damp stone floor of what looks like a dark tunnel. 

 

” _Lumos_ ”, he whispers and starts to follow the tunnel to the dim light from his wand. 

 

A sudden _thump_ behind him makes his heart jump into his throat and he quickly wheels around, holding his wand aloft with a trembling hand. Something is moving on the floor… It’s not the Basilisk, though… It can’t be, it’s not big enough… No, it’s definitely a person, getting to their feet gingerly… _Maybe it’s the Heir—_

 

The shadowed person gets closer and closer to him and Harry tenses his muscles, readying himself for a fight or —

 

The person finally reaches the faint glow from his wand tip and Harry releases a breath in a whoosh, relaxing again… There’s no mistaken that white blonde hair… Or stubborn pout…

 

”Draco”, he groans. ”I told you to go get help!”

 

”And _I_ told _you_ no.”

 

Harry just shakes his head, then sweeps his gaze down the other boy’s body, noticing a slight limp. 

 

”Are you hurt?”

 

”I’m fine”, Draco mutters. ”I just twisted my ankle when I landed… Let’s go.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes in exasperation and snakes his arm around the other boy’s middle, allowing him to put some of his weight on him. Draco shoots him a glare, but puts his arm around his shoulders. They continue walking along the tunnel in tense silence. 

 

Suddenly, the outline of something huge and curved lying across the tunnel comes into view and Harry’s heart leaps into his throat. Draco’s hand clamps down on his shoulder painfully and he stops dead in his tracks. 

 

”It’s not moving”, Harry whispers. ”Maybe it’s sleeping…”

 

”Then _shut up_ ”, Draco hisses.

 

”Stay here”, Harry whispers, letting go of his waist. 

 

Holding his breath, he keeps inching forward… The thing is massive, but it’s definitely not moving, not even breathing… Creeping closer and closer, Harry finally realises what he’s actually seeing… Not the Basilisk, but its shed skin… 

 

”It’s — It’s okay”, he tells Draco. ”It’s just… Skin…” 

 

Gulping, Harry carefully squeezes around it and tries not to pay too much attention to its size. Draco manouvres himself around it as well, a lot more gracefully even with his sprained ankle. Harry holds his hand out, just in case he needs to grab it for support… Draco manages to keep his footing, but grabs his hand anyway and interlaces their fingers wordlessly. 

 

”Okay?” Harry whispers.

 

Draco nods. They start walking again, following the tunnel deeper and deeper. It turns, then turns again and then finally they reach what at first appears to be a dead end, except there is a carving on the wall depicting two entwined snakes with emerald eyes… Harry swallows convulsively, trying to dislodge his heart from where it’s hiding just behind his Adam’s apple… He knows what he has to do, and this time he doesn’t have any trouble pretending the snakes are real — looking at one of the emeralds, Harry has the unpleasant feeling that he’s actually staring into a real, live eye —

 

” _Open_ ”, he hisses.

 

The snakes spring to life and slither away from each other. The wall cracks down the middle and the two halves slide aside revealing a large chamber with several rows of pillars. Draco’s hand is squeezing his so hard it’s almost cutting off his blood circulation, his fingertips tingling in protest. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry gently tugs on the other boy’s arm and they enter the dimly lit chamber. 

 

”Close your eyes”, Harry murmurs and keeps his own eyes narrowed into slits, ready to squeeze them shut at the slightest noise or hint of movement. 

 

Halfway down the chamber, a massive statue comes into view at the far end of the Chamber. Harry stops walking and cranes his neck back to stare up into its face, then trail the long, stone beard down its body —

 

”Harry?” Draco whispers uncertainly. 

 

Harry’s heart stutters; there on the floor in front of the statue’s feet, a small body lies crumpled. Harry would recognise the bright red hair anywhere. _Ginny_.

 

Harry let’s go of Draco’s hand and pushes him to the side, manouvering him into the shadows behind one of the pillars. 

 

”Stay”, he chokes out. ”Keep your eyes closed!”

 

Not caring about making any noise anymore, he starts running. Collapsing on the floor next to the girl’s body and lifts her head and shaking it desperately, ”Ginny? _Ginny!_ Wake up!”

 

_Please, please, please don’t be dead —_

 

Her head lolls from side to side, her skin is cold and deathly pale… _But her eyes are closed… Maybe she’s just petrified or — or —_

 

”She won’t wake”, a soft voice says. 

 

Harry startles and spins around. A tall, dark-haired boy is leaning against the nearest pillar watching them calmly. He’s oddly blurry around the edges, almost like a ghost, but Harry immediately recognises his face —

 

”T-Tom? _Tom Riddle_?”

 

Riddle nods silently, his bright eyes glittering in the dim light and never wavering from Harry’s face, making him feel oddly exposed — like when Snape’s eyes had bored into him and he’d felt sure the man could read his thoughts…

 

”What… What do you mean she won’t wake? She’s not dead, is she?” Harry says. 

 

”No, she is still alive… But only just…”

 

”Are… Are you a ghost?” Harry asks awkwardly. 

 

”A memory”, Riddle corrects softly. ”Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

 

The sixteen-year-old points lazily to something on the floor next to the giant statue’s left foot. Harry immediately recognises the diary… _How did it get down here?_

 

_Never mind, that’s not important right now —_

 

”You’ve got to help me, Tom”, he says and grabs Ginny under her arms and struggles to lift her. ”We’ve got to get Ginny out of here before — there’s a Basilisk — I don’t know where it is right now, but it could show up at any minute and… Please, help me?”

 

Riddle just continues to stare at Harry silently, making no move to help him lift Ginny’s lifeless body. Harry finally manages to hoist her halfway up and looks around for his wand… _It’s gone._

 

”Did you see my —?”

 

Harry looks over at Riddle again. The boy is twirling Harry’s wand between his fingers idly. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry says and holds out his hand for it, but Riddle continues to twirl the wand and a tiny smile stretches his lips. ”Listen! _We’ve really got to get out of here!_ If the Basilisk comes—”

 

”It won’t come until it’s called”, Riddle says calmly. 

 

Harry feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over his head. His heart starts pounding, harder and harder… Riddle’s smile stretches wider, but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all… His cold, calculating eyes… _How could I ever think he was handsome?_

 

Harry gently lowers Ginny to the floor again and takes a step closer to the older boy. 

 

”Give me my wand back”, he says, grateful to hear his voice comes out steady. 

 

”You won’t be needing it.”

 

”How did Ginny get like this, Tom?”

 

”Well, that’s an interesting question, _Harry…_ And I’ll be happy to tell you… But first, you’re going to answer some of _my_ questions. You see I’ve been waiting a long time for the chance to see you, to speak to you… Harry Potter… _The Boy Who Lived_ …”

 

”H-How do you know about that? About me?”

 

”Well, thanks to Ginny actually… Little Ginny has been writing in my diary for months and months, telling me all of her pitiful worries and woes, how her brothers would tease her, how embarassing it was to come to school in second-hand robes, how she didn’t think the famous, good, great Harry Potter would _ever_ like her…” Riddle’s eyes glint and he raises an eyebrow. ”Well, she wasn’t wrong, was she…” he drawls and his gaze flickers back to where Draco is hiding for a split second. 

 

”It’s very _boring_ having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl”, he continues. ”But I was patient… I wrote back, I was sympathetic, kind… Ginny simply _loved_ me… _No-one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…_ ”

 

Riddle lets out a high, cold laugh that sends a shiver down Harry’s spine. 

 

”You’ll find I can be _very_ charming, Harry Potter… So little Ginny poured her soul out to me, and it so happens that _her soul_ was exactly what I needed…”

 

”Wh- What do you m-mean?”

 

”I’ve been growing stronger and stronger, feeding off her deepest fears and darkest secrets… In fact, I eventually grew stronger and more powerful than little Miss Weasley and could start pouring some of _my_ soul into _her_ …”

 

”What…” Harry breathes, his ears ringing and chest tightening. ”What do you mean…”

 

”Haven’t you guessed it yet, _Harry Potter?_ It was Ginny Weasley who opened the Chamber of Secrets… Ginny who strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the wall in their blood—” he lets out another laugh. ”She didn’t know what she was doing at first, of course. The diary entries certainly got more entertaining after that, though… _Dear Tom, I think I’m losing my memory. There are feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there… Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Hallowe’en but a cat has been attacked and I’ve got blood all over my front… Dear Tom_ —”

 

”Okay, enough!” Harry snaps in a strangled voice, the ringing in his ears worsened by Riddle’s high-pitched voice. 

 

”She got suspiscious eventually”, Riddle says with a smirk. ”She tried to dispose of the diary. And then who should find it but _you_ … The one person I was most anxious to meet!”

 

”And why did you want to meet me?”

 

”Tell me, Harry Potter… How is it possible that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest; for a split second he’d been sure that he’d seen a _red gleam_ in Riddle’s eyes… _But no, I must have imagined it… All this talk of Voldemort must have brought back the memory or… Reminded me of my nightmares… That’s all…_

 

”How did _you_ escape with nothing more than _a scar_ , while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

 

”What do _you_ care how I escaped? Voldemort was after your time—”

 

”Voldemort is my past, present and future… Harry Potter…” Riddle says softly and raising Harry’s wand, he begins to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE — and then giving the wand a wave, he rearranges the letters until instead they spell out: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

 

Harry feels himself go numb… He’s beyond fear and anger now, beyond cold… He feels nothing. 

 

”You see?” Riddle whispers gleefully. ”It was a name I was already using while at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only… I was hardly going to keep my _filthy muggle_ father’s name forever… I, in whose veins run the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle who abandoned me before I was even born, just because he found out my mother was a witch? No… I fashioned myself a new name… One I knew would one day be known and feared by all wizards and witches, when I would become the greatest sorcerer in the world…”

 

”Well, you’re not”, Harry says quietly. ”I’ve seen you. You’re a wreck. You’re weak and pathetic and ugly…” 

 

Riddle’s lips twitch, ”Ugly… As opposed to my sixteen-year-old self, you mean?”

 

Harry swallows thickly, feeling bile rise in his throat. ”And Albus Dumbledore is still considered the most powerful wizard in the world… You’ve always been afraid of him, haven’t you? Well, you still were, even at your peak…”

 

Riddle’s face falls and contorts hideously into a scowl.

 

”Albus Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory_ of me!” he snarls.

 

Thinking fast, Harry realises this is his only chance to get out of here… _Distract him… Keep him talking… What was it Dumbledore said in Hagrid’s hut?_

 

”He’s not really gone”, Harry says, willing Riddle to believe him, willing Riddle to doubt, to fear. ”He’ll never truly be gone, not as long as there are people at the school who believe in him…”

 

Riddle opens his mouth to speak again, but freezes — listening intently —

 

Then Harry hears it too… It sounds like music, like flute music except clearer and more beautiful than any flute Harry has ever heard before… It grows and grows and seems to fill Harry’s heart with warmth that spreads to his arms and legs and he feels _hopeful_ —

 

Suddenly, flames erupt on the top of the pillar Riddle is standing next to and the sixteen-year-old flinches, eyes flickering in panic —

 

A large crimson and golden bird appears in the fire, its long tail feathers gleaming like gold and a brown bundle clasped in its talons… Flapping its swan-like wings, it soars down towards them… Riddle ducks, but the bird soars past him and lands on top of Harry’s shoulder instead, the bundle falling to the floor in front of them. 

 

”That’s a phoenix”, Riddle mumbles, frowning at the bird.

 

” _Fawkes_?” Harry says and the bord blinks calmly at him.

 

”And that… that’s the old school Sorting Hat”, Riddle says with an amused huff and nods towards the bundle on the floor. ”How lovely… So this is what the great Albus Dumbledore sends his defender — a songbird and an old hat! Do you feel protected now, Harry Potter? Do you feel _safe_?” He sneers. ”To business… Twice — in _your_ past, _my_ future — we have met, and I have failed to kill you. _Why?_ And remember, the longer you talk, the longer _both of you_ get to stay alive…”

 

Harry frowns. _Why is Riddle trying to buy time?_ He glances down at Ginny’s lifeless body and something clicks into place in his mind… Remembering what Riddle said about growing stronger as Ginny grew weaker… _He’s draining the life out of her!_

 

”Well?” Riddle prompts. ”How did you manage to survive?” 

 

”No-one knows”, Harry says shortly.

 

Riddle’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, ”No…” he says slowly. ”That’s not quite true, is it, _Harry Potter…_ You’re lying to me…”

 

”I’m not”, Harry says, shrugging the shoulder Fawkes isn’t sitting on.

 

”You’re hiding something, though…”

 

”Lily sacrificed herself to save me, that’s all I know”, he says and a gleam in Riddle’s eyes tells him that makes more sense to him than it ever did to Harry. ”You know what, I don’t really feel like talking anymore.”

 

”So your mother died to save you. Yes, that is a powerful counter-charm. So, there is nothing special about you after all… I had wondered, you see… There are some stranger likenesses between us, after all — surely you must have noticed?”

 

”No”, Harry says in a strangled voice, willing himself to believe it.

 

”Oh, come now… Both halfbloods, both orphans—”

 

”I am not an orphan!” Harry yells, his fury finally getting the better of him. 

 

Riddle pauses with a cold smile, then continues as if Harry never spoke at all, ”Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Salazar himself… But—”

 

”Why don’t you call the Basilisk, so we can get this over with?”

 

”Are you feeling _brave,_ Harry Potter…”

 

”Or I can call it, if you prefer?”

 

Riddle snorts humorlessly, ”Parseltongue won’t save you. It only obeys _me_ … The true Heir of Salazar Slytherin…”

 

”Fine, so call it.”

 

Riddle’s right eye twitches, and there’s definitely a red gleam in them now… But Harry isn’t so scared anymore. Maybe it’s the comforting weight of the phoenix on his shoulder, or maybe he’s gone so far beyond scared that he doesn’t even feel it anymore, but he just feels light… Numb and empty… But warm at the same time. Hopeful. Strong. 

 

Riddle steps forward and raises his hand towards the huge statue behind Harry and starts to wheeze out a series of hisses, but Harry understands them as words — _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_

 

Harry turns around and stares up at the ancient statue of Salazar Slytherin. The massive stone mouth opens, wider and wider, revealing a huge dark hole… As soon as Harry senses movement in the darkness, he squeezes his eyes shut —

 

”DRACO, RUN!” he bellows. 

 

He feels Fawkes push off his shoulder and take flight. He resists the urge to reach out and try and grab a hold of its tail feathers. 

 

The floor trembles as something heavy hits it. 

 

” _Kill him_ ”, Riddle hisses.

 

Keeping his eyes shut, Harry begins to run blindly with his arms out-stretched and feeling for any obstacles. He can hear Riddle’s high-pitched laugh echo behind him — Tripping over his own feet suddenly, Harry falls headlong and gets the wind knocked out of him when he hits the hard stone floor… He scrambles to his feet, but falls again… He can hear the Basilisk getting closer and closer, slithering over the floor behind him…

 

Getting up on shaky arms and knees, Harry tries to get his feet under him again —

 

Something heavy whacks against his side and he is immediately thrust into something solid, either a wall or a pillar, and again he gasps for breath, waiting for fangs to sink into his flesh, _this is it, it’s going to kill me —_

 

But nothing happens. He can sense frantic movement next to him and hears angry hisses, amidst which he can make out fragmented words like _Kill_ and _Tear_ and surprisingly _Get away_ —

 

Frowning in confusion, Harry squints his eyes open just a sliver, just enough to see what’s going on… The Basilisk is right there in front of him, it’s body massive and bright green, but it’s raised itself high into the air, head thrashing around frantically, jaws open wide and swatting at —

 

 _Fawkes!_ Harry realises with a jolt. The phoenix is flying around the Basilisk head, scratching its’ skin with its’ sharp talons — and then suddenly it dives and Harry can see it’s long, golden beak sink out of sight and before he knows what’s happened, the Basilisk lets out a loud hiss that sounds almost like a wail and it turns its head, looking right at Harry —

 

Heart stuttering in his chest, Harry has time to think, _I’m dead_ — before he realises that, _No… No I’m not… What —?_

 

But then he sees why; Fawkes has managed to peck out both of the Basilisk’s eyes, so instead of the yellow orbs that Moaning Myrtle described, Harry finds himself staring into two bleeding holes… Then the Basilisk turns its head away again, snapping blindly for the bird…

 

 _”Leave the bird!”_ Riddle hisses loudly. _”The boy is behind you! You can still smell him! Kill him! KILL HIM!”_

 

The blinded serpent recoils and sways, hissing in pain and fury… It opens its massive jaws and Harry looks between the bared fangs and flaring nostrils and gulps… He quickly scrambles to his feet, getting ready to run… The serpent draws itself up, its massive tail whipping across the chamber and Harry ducks to avoid getting hit over the head. 

 

Something soft hits him in the chest and he catches it instinctively — _it’s the Sorting Hat_ —Clutching the ragged old hat in one hand, Harry starts running. The Basilisk makes a lunge for him, but Fawkes dives again, distracting it. 

 

The Basilisk’s tail comes tearing throught the air again and Harry throws himself down on the ground, narrowingly avoiding a blow to the back of his head… Acting on panicked instinct, he puts the Sorting Hat on his head and thinks, _”Help! I need help! Please, please help me!”_

 

No voice answers him, but something happens to the hat itself; it seems to tighten rapidly as if someone’s squeezing it and then something heavy drops down and hits Harry in the head… 

 

 _”I said leave the bird!”_ Riddle hisses. _”The boy is to your left! Sniff — smell him!”_

 

Wrenching the hat off again, Harry looks inside: a ruby encrusted, gold-hilted sword has materialised inside it… Without thinking, Harry grabs it with both hands and brandishes it in front of him with determination —

 

The Basilisk lunges blindly for him, but Harry throws himself aside and it crashes into the pillar instead… Barely affected by the blow, the head swerves around and lunges again — Harry feels the giant forked tongue lash the side of his head and he swings the sword blinding after it —

 

The Basilisk lunges for a third time and this time Harry stands his ground, putting his whole weight against the sword, he drives it into the roof of the Basilisk’s mouth —

 

With a horrible hiss, the Basilisk’s jaws snap shut and Harry just has time to let go of the sword and throw himself backwards before they close over him — but not fast enough… One of the fangs pierces the flesh of his arm and he lets out a shout as waves of indescribable pain courses through his arm and rapidly spreads throughout his body… It’s the poison, he thinks in a panic… I can feel the poison spreading… 

 

Crumpling to the floor, he clutches the splintered fang that’s still sticking out of the puncture wound in his arm… Body convulsing slightly as the poison spreads throughout his system, Harry gathers his last strength to crawl backwards away from the Basilisk… Falling back against the wall, panting, Harry looks over at the beast and realises with a rush of relief that it’s dead. 

 

”Harry! No, no, no—” Draco collapses next to him. 

 

Harry tries to focus his eyes on him, but his vision has already started to swim. 

 

”No, no, no…” the blonde keeps muttering frantically. 

 

He grabs the fang with both hands and pulls it out of the wound. Harry winces in pain, his eyelids fluttering closed. He can feel Draco’s trembling hands press against the wound on his arm, pointlessly trying to stop the bleeding… _But it’s too late_ , Harry thinks faintly. 

 

”You’re going to be fine”, Draco says hysterically. ”Just — Don’t die — Stay with me — _Hey!_ Listen to me! Look at me! I am _not_ letting you die right now, okay!”

 

Harry reaches out with a weak arm and his numb fingers brush against the other boy’s shoulder briefly, before the arm falls heavily to Harry’s side again, too weak… _I’m dying… Draco will never forgive me,_ he thinks. 

 

 _Maybe I’ll come back as a ghost like Myrtle did… Wonder if Snape will still make me do detention…_  

 

They can hear echoing footsteps approaching. Harry’s eyelids flutter, but the whole chamber is swimming before his eyes, everything dissolving in a whirl of muted colours… You’re dead, Harry Potter, a voice murmurs cruelly in the back of his head — No, not in his head — Above him — _Riddle_ — Images of his dad and daddy flash through his mind and he chokes on a sob…

 

”No, no, hey…” Draco says with forced calm. ”Don’t listen to him. You’re going to be fine. Really. I- I p-promise, okay… Just—” 

 

”Isn’t that sweet…” Riddle drawls with a cold chuckle.

 

”You’re not going to die!” Draco whispers furiously, then lets out a startled yell, ” _Hey!_ What—!”

 

One of Draco’s hands leave Harry’s arm and he starts cursing angrily. Harry focuses all of his remaining strength on opening his eyes and manages to squint up at the other boy and sees him flap his arm around, trying to swat away — 

 

”Fawkes…” Harry mumbles.

 

The phoenix is seemingly trying to attack Draco and finally manages to give his other hand a peck. Draco lets go of Harry’s arm completely, swearing in pain. Much to Riddle’s amusement, who stands back and laughs as Draco cradles his injured hand to his chest, swearing at Fawkes as the bird sits down on Harry’s shoulder and bows its head somberly. 

 

”Stupid bird!” Draco says angrily. ”Get away from him!”

 

”It’s okay…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Look, even Dumbledore’s bird knows you’re dead, Harry Potter…” Riddle says pleasantly. ”See what it’s doing? _It’s crying._ ”

 

Harry blinks his heavy eyelids, managing to focus on the bird’s bright, yellow eye… Big, pearly tears are indeed swelling and rolling down its long beak… 

 

”I’m just going to have a seat over here and watch you die, Harry”, Riddle says and lowers himself to the ground and leaning back aganist his arms, as if he was talking about sun bathing or something. ”Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” 

 

_Well, if this is how dying feels, it’s not that bad… I can’t even feel the pain anymore…_

 

 _But what’s going to happen to Draco?_ Harry looks over at the other boy; He looks paler than Harry has ever seen him. His jaw bones jutting out as he grits his teeth and his pale grey eyes focused on Fawkes as well, but there’s a light in them… He looks thoughtful, excited even… Harry frowns; He would think his boyfriend would be a bit more upset by now…

 

”So ends the famous Harry Potter”, Riddle muses and lets out another cold laugh. ”Defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged…”

 

Harry’s eyelids and arms don’t feel quite so heavy anymore. He pushes himself up a little. Draco’s eyes snap up to his and widen. Harry blinks… _Oh… Hang on…_ Looking down at the wound on his arm — _No, no wound_ — Just a damp patch of pearly phoenix tears where the wound used to be! _Of course_ , Harry thinks excitedly. _Phoenix tears have healing powers!_

 

”What are you doing?” Riddle snaps suddenly, jumping to his feet. ”What —? No! Get away from him! Both of you!” 

 

The sixteen-year-old raises Harry’s wand and hisses a curse. A loud bang echoes throughout the Chamber. Fawkes takes flight and disappears into the darkness of the ceiling. Draco bolts and Harry jumps to his feet, eyes searching frantically for the sword… But it’s still embedded in the Basilisk’s skull… And anyway, what good would it have been against magic?

 

”You know, I think I prefer it this way…” Riddle says quietly as he strides up to Harry, eyes shining manically, pupils gleaming scarlet. ”Just you and me, Harry Potter… You and me… Go on, admit you’ve fantasised about it”, he chuckles wryly. ”I know I have… Not the same fantasy, maybe—”

 

His eyes widen suddenly and before Harry knows what’s happened, he lets out a piercing scream. Recoiling, Harry’s back hits the wall behind him and he breathes heavily, mind whirling frantically trying to comprehend what’s happening —

 

Riddle falls to his knees, still screaming in agony… Collapsing in a heap on the floor, he starts twisting and writhing, his body arching and contorting… 

 

Then he’s gone.

 

Harry stares. His wand clatters to the floor, the only sign Riddle was ever there at all. Looking around in wonder, Harry sees Draco hunched over something on the floor… The blonde is gripping something in his hand and his chest is heaving… It’s not until he lets go and sits back on the floor that Harry sees what it is — it’s the basilisk fang that Draco pulled out of his arm, now embedded in Riddle’s diary… Riddle’s _bleeding_ diary… 

 

Draco holds his shaking hands up to his face, his face twisting in disgust… Inky black blood is dripping from them and also glistening on his pyjama shirt front… Harry struggles to his feet and runs over to him. 

 

”You did it”, he gasps. ”You killed him!”

 

Draco only stares back at him, a whirl of emotions clouding his eyes.

 

”Let’s… Let’s get Ginny out of here and… And yeah…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Harry…” Draco says, voice trembling dangerously. 

 

”I know, I’m sorry”, Harry says quickly. ”Can we just — Let’s get out of here, please? Let’s— Hey, where is Ginny?”

 

”In the tunnel”, Draco mutters with a disgruntled look at his hands and tries to flick the ink off them. 

 

”You already got her out of here? When?”

 

”Earlier when you and Tom where having your little _heart to heart_ ”, Draco spits the words out.

 

”I didn’t even see… You’re just… Amazing!”

 

”Yeah. And I just saved your life, which means you _owe me_ now. Which means the next time I tell you not to do something, _you have to listen to me!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any thoughts or requests for the 'Goblet of Fire' chapters, I'm all ears!


	14. Consequences and heartbreak

Harry offers Draco a hand, but the blonde holds his own hand up with a raised eyebrow. Harry rolls his eyes — like he’ll care about getting ink on his hands, after everything that’s just happened! — He grabs Draco’s hand and helps him up. The other boy staggers slightly and winces in pain. 

 

”How’s your ankle?” Harry murmurs. 

 

Draco doesn’t answer, just grumbles something under his breath. Harry sighs and laces his arm around the boy’s waist to support some of his weight. Draco hops a little closer to him and leans into his side. It’s actually quite nice and comforting to have him pressed against his side like this, Harry thinks. And considering how angry the other boy is, it might be the only chance to be this close that Harry will get in a while, so he might as well make the most of it…

 

”H-Harrry? _Harry?_ ” They hear Ginny Weasley’s weak voice calling from the tunnel. 

 

”It’s okay, Ginny!” he shouts. ”We’re coming!”

 

Fawkes comes swooping down from the ceiling again and leads the way through the shadows. They find Ginny sitting on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. 

 

”Are you all right?” Harry says. 

 

”Harry, I’m so s-sorry — I swear I d-didn’t m-mean to, Riddle made me do it —!”

 

”I know”, Harry says. ”It’s all right. It’s all over now.”

 

”I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny sobs. ”It’s no more than I deserve but — what’s — what’s mum and dad going to s-say?”

 

”I don’t know…” Harry says awkwardly. ”I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m sure… I’m sure it’s going to be fine. I think everyone will just be happy that you’re okay. Come on… Everyone’s really worried, we really should get back… Come on, it’s okay, let’s go…”

 

Harry reaches out with his free hand and offers the girl a hand. She takes it gratefully and climbs to her feet, but when she tries to hold on to his hand Draco shoots her a glare and she immediately recoils, blushing. 

 

”Come on…” Harry mutters uncomfortably. ”I don’t know how we’re going to get up that pipe again, but… Let’s just get through the tunnel first of all—”

 

”POTTER!”

 

”Oh no…”

 

” _Severus_?” Draco exclaims in relief. 

 

Indeed, their Head of House suddenly steps out of the darkness like some ominous apparition, his black robes rumpled but billowing more dramatically than ever and his dark eyes blazing with fury. Harry instinctively takes a step back, but Draco restrains him. 

 

” _Ow!_ Harry, my ankle—!”

 

Professor Dumbledore appears behind Professor Snape, but hangs back and watches silently as Snape swoops down on them. His lips are pressed thin and his entire body visibly shaking with anger. 

 

”I-I-I’m — I’m — I —” Harry stammers. 

 

”Not… A… Word…” Snape hisses. 

 

He sweeps a glance over the three of them to assess the damage of their adventure, then wordlessly points towards the tunnel’s exit. They scurry past him quickly and glancing uncomfortably at Dumbledore’s uncharacteristically stoic face, they continue to follow Fawkes through the gloom. 

 

Ginny continues to cry silently next to Harry, but he can’t seem to muster much sympathy for her right now. At least they’re all alive. And something tells him that whatever wrath Ginny will have to face when she is reunited with her parents will be nothing compared to what _Snape_ will do to _him_ …

 

When they reach the exit, Dumbledore gently instructs them all to hold onto each other and then grabs Fawkes’ tail feathers. The phoenix flap its great wings and soars high into the air as if they weighed nothing at all, and within seconds they surge out of the hole in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. 

 

As soon as they hit the wet tiled floor, the sink pops back into place hiding the entrance again. Harry goggles at it… But — 

 

”It closed”, he says in surprise and forgetting Snape’s wrath momentarily he turns to him and Dumbledore. ”But then… How did you open it, Sir?” 

 

Dumbledore tilts his head and twinkles at him from over the rim of his half-moon glasses. 

 

”I’m not a Parselmouth”, he says gently. ”But I have learned to master the basics of parseltongue over the years…”

 

Harry whips his head around and stares at Snape in horror. The man merely glares back, shaking out his robes and flicking his damp hair out of his face. 

 

”Now, now, Severus”, Dumbledore murmurs in a surprisingly soothing voice. ”Our friends are unharmed, so maybe now you can rel—”

 

” _Don’t_ ”, Snape says in a clipped tone.

 

”Very well… We’re all a little shocked, I daresay… But if you will all follow me. There are a lot of worried people waiting for us and I do believe we are all… Curious… To hear your stories…”

 

Professor Dumbledore leads them to Professor McGonagall’s office where Mr and Mrs Weasley are waiting along with Ron, Percy and the twins. As soon as they walk in the door, the whole Weasley family jump up and start yelling in relief and joy, and Mrs Weasley envelops Ginny in a massive bear hug even as she starts yelling at her for making them all worry. She suddenly spots Harry and Draco and, thrusting Ginny into the waiting arms of her husband, she envelops the both of them into a hug as well, completely oblivious to Draco’s wince of pain.

 

”You saved her! You saved her! _How_ did you save her? I just can’t believe it! How can we ever thank you enough—!”

 

”Yes, how did you save her?” Professor McGonagall says hoarsely. 

 

Mrs Weasley finally lets go of them and Draco slumps against Harry’s side. Harry awkwardly removes the sword and the Sorting Hat from his waistband and hands them over to Dumbledore. The old wizard accepts them with a surprised look. Harry swallows thickly… Then looks at Draco. 

 

”The diary”, he says. 

 

”Oh, yeah…” 

 

Draco removes the diary from his pocket and hobbling over to McGonagall’s desk he puts it down. Everyone in the room follows his movements in stunned silence, then stare in shock at the old book with the huge fang sticking out of it and still oozing ink. 

 

”It’s a long story”, Draco says. ”But someone needs to fix my ankle.”

 

There is a flurry of movement around the room as several of the grown-ups get their wands out. In the end, Snape is the one who directs Draco to sit down and then kneels on the floor in front of him, gently guiding his foot onto his bent knee and performing a simple healing spell. 

 

”Thank you, Sir…” Draco murmurs. 

 

”Well, Mr Potter…” McGonagall says. ”Do you want to tell us what happened tonight?”

 

But Harry just shakes his head. He feels drained. Fawkes might have driven the basilisk poison from his system, but he has no strength or energy left… And on top of that, he feels pretty sure that he is about to be expelled and if that’s the case, he rather just get it over with so that he can go home to his dads and curl up in his bed and sleep for days…

 

”Well, I tried to stop him”, Draco says. ”But he’s the most stubborn person on the planet.”

 

Harry glances over at him, but still doesn’t say anything. Draco huffs and rolls his eyes, then tells everyone about how he’d followed Harry down to the Chamber and when Harry fought the basilisk, he dragged Ginny to safety. 

 

”You _fought_ —” Snape snaps his mouth shut again and then proceeds to take several deep breaths while glaring at the ceiling. 

 

”Yeah the bird showed up”, Draco says. ”It pecked out the basilisk’s eyes, but it was still — still a giant serpent — but I dunno — You got a hold of that sword, somehow? I didn’t see where you found that actually…”

 

Harry takes a deep, shaky breath and points to the Sorting Hat. Everyone gives him confused looks, but he just shakes his head; too tired to talk… Snape watches him with unreadable eyes and when Harry sways, he’s in front of him in a flash, conjuring up a chair for him to sink onto and puts a gentle hand on top of his shoulder… It makes Harry feel a little better, like when Fawkes was sitting there…

 

”Then what happened, Mr Malfoy?” Dumbledore says gently. 

 

”Oh — ehm — then”, Draco mumbles, tearing his worried eyes away from Harry again and meeting those of the Headmaster politely. ”Well, he got himself bitten by the thing, didn’t he, the clumsy fool. He was dying, properly dying, but then the bird — it — it started crying and the tears — I dunno, the wound started healing up again — but Riddle still had Harry’s wand and —”

 

”Riddle?” Snape says sharply. 

 

”Yeah — from the diary”, Draco says. ”Oh, right — I forgot to tell you about the diary —”

 

”This?” Dumbledore says quietly and reaches for the diary, holding it up to his face curiously. ”I see… So that’s how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny… I did wonder… My sources had told me he was still hiding n the forests of Albania, you see…”

 

”What…” Mrs Weasley says weakly. ”What’s that? _You-Know-Who_? En-Enchant Ginny? But Ginny’s not… Ginny hasn’t been… has she?”

 

” _Yes_!” Ginny sobs suddenly. ”It was his diary, but I d-didn’t _know_! D-Didn’t know it was _him,_ I only knew him as T-Tom… We’ve been writing to each other all year!”

 

”Ginny!” Mr Weasley says, shocked. ”What have I told you about things that appears to think for itself? Never trust it _unless you can see where it keeps its brain!_ A suspiscious object like that, _clearly_ it was full of Dark Magic! Why didn’t you show it to me or your mother, or Percy?”

 

”I d-don’t know!” Ginny wails. ”I just found it amongst my textbooks and thought mum had got it for me!”

 

”Miss Weasley should go up to the Hospital Wing right away”, Professor Dumbledore says. ”She has been through a terrible ordeal… There will be no punishement. Older and wiser wizards have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort in the past… Some bedrest and perhaps a large mug of hot chocolate? I usually finds that cheers me up!”

 

”What about Harry and me?” Draco pipes up. 

 

”Yes, of course”, Dumbldore says. ”I daresay the kitchens can whip up enough chocolate to go around… But first, if you don’t mind, I would like a word with the two of you in private?”

 

”Right”, Professor McGonagall says, all business-like and starts herding everyone else out of her office. 

 

Snape gives her a quick head-shake when she gives him a questioning look and stays next to Harry’s chair. Dumbledore twinkles at him, but doesn’t comment on the fact that he’s chosen to stay behind. 

 

”Have you contacted their parents, Severus?”

 

”Yes.”

 

Harry and Draco groan in unison, and Snape’s hand clamps down a little harder on Harry’s shoulder. Dumbledore nods calmly. 

 

”And you have some punishments in mind?”

 

”Yes.”

 

”Even though they saved young Miss Weasley’s life and maybe many more—?”

 

” _Yes._ ”

 

”Very well… You’re their Head of House, but—”

 

”Albus.”

 

Dumbledore nods again, ”Well… I’ll make this short”, he says with a sigh. ”First of all, Harry, I’d like to thank you… You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber, for Fawkes to come to your aid…”

 

Harry shrugs his should awkwardly. 

 

”So you met Tom Riddle tonight… I bet he was _very_ interested in you?”

 

”I guess…” Harry mumbles uncomfortably, then remembering something that Riddle said that struck a little too close to home at the time. ”Sir… He said… He said I’m like him…”

 

”Did he?” Dumbledore says. ”And what do you think, Harry?”

 

”Well, I… I mean… I’m a Parselmouth like him, I guess.”

 

”Ah, yes… You can speak parseltongue, Harry — because Lord Voldemort, who is the last known descendant of Salazar Slytherin, can speak parseltongue. If I am not mistaken, Lord Voldemort transferred some of his powers into you the night he gave you that scar. Not intentionally, of course…”

 

”What, Voldemort put a _piece of himself_ in _me_?” Harry says, flabbergasted. 

 

Snape’s hand tightens on his shoulder. Harry winces and Snape immediately loosens his grip and lets go of his shoulder altogether.

 

Before Dumbledore has a chance to answer, the office door flies open and Lucius Malfoy strides in, looking more thunderous than Harry’s ever seen him, even more so than when he got into a fist fight with Mr Weasley in Flourish and Blotts. 

 

”Father!” Draco squeaks and jumps to his feet. 

 

”Ah, good evening, Lucius”, Dumbledore says calmly.

 

Lucius ignores the Headmaster entirely and strides across the room and grabs Draco by the shoulder roughly, as if needing to reassure himself that he’s actually standing there. 

 

”Draco… Are you… Hurt?”

 

”N-No, I’m fine, Sir”, Draco mumbles. 

 

”He sprained his ankle, but I mended it for him”, Snape supplies. 

 

Lucius glances over at the Potions Master and gives him a curt nod. 

 

”Your son is quite the hero”, Dumbledore says pleasantly. 

 

”Severus”, Lucius says. ”Will you please escort Draco to the Hospital Wing?”

 

”I really am fine, father—”

 

”I will join you momentarily”, Lucius continues, with a warning glare in Draco’s direction. ”I just need to have a word with the Headmaster.”

 

Snape nods, gesturing for Draco to come with him and the blonde quickly trails after him, pausing only to give Harry a questioning look. But Harry remains rooted to the spot, staring at Lucius Malfoy’s walking stick — or rather the heavily bandaged house-elf cowering behind it — it's the house-elf that came to visit Harry in his bedroom, to warn him about the terrible things that would be happening at Hogwarts… 

 

”Harry, are you coming?”

 

”Wait…” Harry mumbles. ”You go ahead — I just — I’ll be right there…”

 

Harry looks from the house-elf to Mr Malfoy’s angry face and the last piece of the puzzle suddenly falls into place. He remembers that day in Diagon Alley, in Flourish and Blotts… Hadn’t Mr Malfoy handed Ginny her books back after Harry’s daddy broke up the fight between him and Mr Weasley? _He could easily have slipped the diary in between her books then…_

 

”Do you mind, Mr Potter”, Lucius says. ”The Headmaster and I have some private matters to discuss.”

 

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles. ”Yeah, I’ll… I’ll see you in the Hospital Wing…”

 

With a final glance at Dumbledore, Harry leaves the office and carefully shuts the door behind him. But instead of heading towards the Hospital Wing, he stays in the corridor and waits for Mr Malfoy to come out of the office. He can hear his muted voice as he demands to know what Dumbledore is doing back at the school despite being suspended. 

 

Whatever Dumbledore responds, Harry can’t make out the words in the older wizard’s soft voice. He inches closer to the door and holds his breath, listening intently.

 

” _That’s ridiculous!”_ Lucius snarls. ” _And have you managed to stop the attacks? Has the culprit been caught? —_ Well? _Who was it?”_

 

There is another pause. Harry presses his ear against the door.

 

” _I see…_ ” Lucius says slowly.

 

” _A clever plan… If Harry and Draco hadn’t discovered the book, Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No-one would ever have been able to prove that she wasn’t acting of her own accord… And imagine the effect something like that would have had on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was convicted of killing Muggle-borns… So it’s very fortunate indeed that the truth was discovered — and that no-one has been permanently hurt, of course._ ”

 

” _Very fortunate_ ”, Lucius says coldly. 

 

” _I would advice you, Lucius, not to go around giving away any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things… If any more of them find their ways into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…_ ”

 

” _How dare you!”_ Lucius spits. ” _Come, Dobby! We’re going!_ ”

 

Harry quickly jumps back from the door and moves aside just in time before it bursts open and the house-elf comes hurtling into the corridor with a pained squeal, followed by a furious-looking Lucius Malfoy. 

 

”Eavesdropping, Potter?” Lucius sneers. ”Why am I not surprised — _Come, Dobby!_ ”

 

Lucius whacks his walking stick against the back of the house-elf’s head and the creature lets out a strangled yelp.

 

Harry feels a stab of sympathy for the house-elf as it quickly scrambles to its feet again, cradling a broken arm to its’ chest. Sure, the elf’s warped way of trying to save Harry’s life actually almost got him killed, but his heart had obviously been in the right place and even if it hadn’t, no-one deserve that kind of abuse… Making his mind up, Harry slips back inside McGonagall’s office.

 

”Professor, would it be possible for me to have that diary back?”

 

Dumbledore looks up in surprise. His light-blue eyes twinkling more than ever. 

 

”I don’t see why not…”

 

”Thank you, Sir”, Harry says and strides across the room to grab it from the desk. 

 

He kicks off his left shoe and peels his sock off, then puts the diary inside it. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry says again and runs out of the room. 

 

He follows the house-elf’s squeaks and whimpers of pain down the corridor, until he finally catches up with him and Mr Malfoy. His clappering footsteps alert the other wizard to his presence and he whirls around to face him. 

 

”Mr Malfoy… I wanted to give you something…” Harry pants and thrusts the sock-clad diary into Lucius’ hand. 

 

”What the —?” 

 

Lucius scrunches up his nose at the stained and smelly sock, before pulling it off the diary quickly and throwing aside. He takes one look at the ruined diary and fixes Harry with a cold, calculating look. Harry meets his gaze straight on, and the man sneers. 

 

”Your parents were meddlesome fools, too… You’ll want to be careful, Harry, or one of these days you’re going to meet the same sticky end… Dobby _—_ ”

 

Lucius whirls around to stride off again, but the house-elf stays where it is, clutching Harry’s disgusting sock in both hands and looking at it in wonder. 

 

” _Dobby!_ ”

 

”M-Master has given Dobby a s-sock!” the house-elf squeals. 

 

” _What_? I didn’t—!” Lucius snaps, then seeing the sock in Dobby’s hands and realising what’s happened he rounds on Harry with a furious snarl. ”You’ve just lost me my servant!”

 

”Sorry”, Harry says drily and quirks an eyebrow. 

 

”Dobby has a sock! Dobby is _free_!”

 

Harry smirks. 

 

”Oh, you think you’re so clever”, Lucius says softly. ”But we shall see who gets the last laugh, won’t we?”

 

”HARRY!” The near-hysterical voice of Remus Lupin suddenly cuts through the quiet and Harry flinches.

 

Lucius gives him a taunting smirk to mirror the one that quickly slipped off his face, then strides off before Remus and Sirius come stalking round the corner. 

 

” _Harry James Potter!_ ” Remus hollers. 

 

Harry has never seen his daddy so furious before. Even Sirius looks slightly scared at his shoulder. 

 

Remus grabs Harry by the shoulders and gives him a gentle shake, bellowing, ”What the Hell do you think you’re playing at? I will pull you out of this school in a heartbeat, don’t think I won’t! _What do you have to say for yourself?_ ”

 

Harry’s eyes immediately well up with tears. He tries to say say _Sorry,_ but his throat closes up. Remus lets out a strangled yell and envelops him in one of his bone-crushing hugs. 

 

”Don’t ever, _ever_ do that to us again!” he exclaims thickly, with his nose buried in the hair behind Harry’s ear. ”EVER! Do you hear me? _One_ more stint like this, Harry! ONE MORE! We will bring you straight home, _I’m serious!_ One more visit to the Hospital Wing, one more floo call from Snape, or if you get so much as a _paper cut_ —!”

 

”But Ron’s sister —” he tries to explain himself, but immediately gets a warning look from Sirius. 

 

” _I don’t care!_ ” Remus snarls, wrenching out of the hug and holding Harry at arm’s length. ”You are a twelve-year-old boy, Harry! You’re _twelve_! It is _not_ up to _you_ to save the day!”

 

Fresh tears well up in Harry’s eyes and tumble down his cheeks. He tries to burrow back into his daddy’s chest, but Remus keeps him at arm’s length and fixes him with a stern look. 

 

”Next time you will go straight to Professor Snape and you will listen to him when he tells you to do something! If he says to stay in the dormitory, _you will stay in the dormitory_! You will _not_ put yourself in danger like this ever again! Do you hear me? I want you to promise me, Harry — or we might as well pull you out of school _right now_ —!”

 

”N-no, no, I promise!” Harry sobs. ”Please, don’t be mad at me, daddy!”

 

Remus pulls him back into his chest and hugs him tightly. Harry burrows his face in his chest and continues to sob, all of the tension and adrenaline finally surging out of him. Remus lifts him up and cradles him to his chest, rubbing his back soothingly. 

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry cries. ”I’m _so_ sorry!”

 

”Shhh… It’s all right now…” Remus murmurs. ”It’s okay now… You’re okay…”

 

”I’m going to be expelled anyway”, Harry says and snivels miserably.

 

”You’re not getting expelled”, Remus mutters.

 

”P-Professor Snape was s-so angry with me…”

 

Remus sighs heavily and keeps rubbing Harry’s back for a moment, then murmurs ”You scared all of us, pup…”

 

Harry goes to the Hospital Wing with his dads, just so Madam Pomfrey can do a quick diagnostic’s spell and reassure Remus that he is, in fact, fine. Draco is still sitting on the edge of one of the beds when they get there and Snape and Lucius are standing off to the side, talking in hushed tones. 

 

Harry and Lucius exchange a tense look, but neither say anything about their earlier interaction. However, as soon as Harry goes to join Draco on the bed, Lucius strides over and grabs Draco by the arm and pulls him down, saying he’ll escort him back to the Slytherin Common Room. 

 

”If he wants to wait for Harry, I’m sure Professor Snape doesn’t mind walking them down”, Remus suggests.

 

”That won’t be necessary”, Lucius says shortly. ”Come on, Draco.”

 

”But father—”

 

”I said, _come on_!”

 

For the first time, it occurs to Harry that Lucius can actually forbid Draco to be friends with Harry and he almost regrets angering the man earlier.

 

Remus gives Harry a pinched smile and grabs a mug of chocolate from the nightstand and hands it to him.

 

Madam Pomfrey comes bustling over and starts to wave her wand over his body while he sips the chocolate and finally declares some food and rest and he’ll be fit as a fiddle. Harry can’t even think of food though. It’s all he can do to get the hot chocolate down… But sleep sounds good. Amazing, in fact. 

 

As if reading his mind, Madam Pomfrey asks him if he wants to stay the night in the Hospital Wing. But Harry quickly shakes his head. He wants to go back to his dorm, so he can see Draco… Even though the other boy will probably be sleeping already when Harry gets there, he just needs to be close to him… Needs to have that reminder that they both made it out of the Chamber in one piece… 

 

”Your dad and I have checked into the Three Broomsticks”, Remus says. ”We’ll come back to see you in the morning before we head back home, so we’ll talk some more then… Okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry nods. 

 

Remus bends down to kiss him on the top of the head and Sirius leans over and gives him a quick hug.

 

”Thanks again, Severus”, Remus says to the Potions Master before he turns to leave. 

 

Professor Snape nods curtly. Harry waves to both his dads, and they slip out the door. It then occurs to Harry that Snape is waiting for him to finish his chocolate so that they can both head back to the dungeons and go to bed. He quickly tips his head back to drain the cup and burns the roof of his mouth. Spluttering and coughing, he puts the mug down on the nightstand again. 

 

”Take your time, I’m not in a hurry”, Snape mutters. 

 

”I don’t want any more”, Harry says and hops down from the bed. ”Sir… I just… I’m—”

 

”I believe we agreed on one year’s worth of detentions?” Snape says smoothly. 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

”And we also discussed your Quidditch priviledges being revoked?”

 

”Ehm, yeah — Yes — S-Sir —” Harry stammers. 

 

”Good. Then that’s settled. If you’ve finished your chocolate, we’ll be going…”

 

Harry hesitates, then nods with a sigh, ”Yes, Sir…”

 

They’re halfway to the dungeons when Harry works up the courage to ask if the Quidditch priviledges are revoked for a year as well, or for ever. Watching the professor’s face intently, he feels a flare of hope when the man’s mouth gives the tiniest of twitches. 

 

”We’ll see…” 

 

During breakfast the next morning, word of what really went down in the Chamber of Secrets spreads from the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables to the other two and before long, the whole school is chatting excitedly about it. Harry is aware as always of all the looks and pointing fingers, but for once he doesn’t feel bad about it. It all culminates in Justin Finch-Fletchly and Ernie Macmillan making their way over to apologise for ever disbelieving him and Harry beams as he shakes their hands. 

 

Draco is the only one at the Slytherin table who doesn’t appear to love the positive attention their house is getting for once. He’s slouched over in his seat, avoiding everyone’s eye and picking at his food. 

 

Harry is just about to ask him if he’s okay when Sirius walks into the Great Hall. He stops inside the doors to scan the students sitting around the Slytherin table quickly. Harry sits up straighter and waves his hand to get his attention. Grinning, Sirius makes his way over and squeezes down on the bench next to him. 

 

”Never thought I’d see the Great Hall from this angle”, he comments lightly and reaches for the coffee. 

 

”Where’s daddy?” Harry asks. 

 

”He’s talking to Dumble — er — Professor — Headmaster Dumbledore”, Sirius says, then glances past Harry to where Draco is still sitting hunched over. ”Hey, Draco! You feeling better today?”

 

Draco startles and looks up in surprise. 

 

”Oh — uhm — yes, I feel fine, thank you, Sir.”

 

”You don’t have to call me Sir”, Sirius says with a careless flick of his hand. ”Call me Sirius.”

 

Draco looks like he rather finish his porridge than call a grown-up he barely knows by their first name, but dutifully mumbles an _All right, Sirius_ anyway and blushes a bright pink while doing so. Harry smiles fondly, then turns back to his dad.

 

”Why is daddy talking to Dumbledore?” 

 

Sirius shrugs, ”He sent an owl this morning, requesting a meeting with Remus. Oh, don’t look so worried. If it was about you, he would have wanted to talk to the both of us.”

 

”Well, what else could he want to talk to daddy about?”

 

”I dunno”, Sirius says and shrugs again. ”Work, I expect…”

 

”Work?” Harry repeats with a frown. 

 

”Your daddy _does_ have a career, you know”, Sirius says with a pointed look. ”Just because he put it on hold so he could focus on home-schooling you—”

 

”I know, I know”, Harry says hurriedly. ”I didn’t mean… I just meant…”

 

”I know, runt.”

 

”You really think Dumbledore is going to offer him a job?”

 

”I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll tell us…”

 

 

*

 

As a treat, Professor Dumbledore decides to cancel all of their exams and everyone — with the exception of Draco and Hermione Granger — cheers when he makes the annoucement. They still have to go to their remaining lessons of the year, but without the pressure of passing their exams, Harry finds them quite enjoyable now. Even Potions. And _especially_ Defence Against the Dark Arts… It turns out that Lockhart ran away the night Ginny Weasley was taken into the Chamber of Secrets, so the morning after when Dumbledore called Remus to his office for a meeting, he’d wanted to ask him to fill in as DADA professor for the last few weeks of the school year. Remus had accepted, as long as Harry would be okay with it, and of course he was! 

 

Sure, he thought it might feel a little odd to have his daddy teach him and his classmates, but he figured it couldn’t possibly be worse than having either Quirrell or Lockhart as teachers — and it turns out he’d been right in thinking so, because Remus is a brilliant teacher! 

 

Harry isn’t the only one who thinks so either. At the end of their last DADA lesson of the year, when Remus thanks them all for their hard work and tells them how much he has enjoyed being their professor, however briefly, several of Harry’s classmates asks him if he’ll be back next year. 

 

”Oh, please, Professor!” Pansy simpers. ”You’re the best DADA teacher we’ve ever had! Please say you’ll be back next year?”

 

”I’m afraid I can’t promise that”, Remus says with a kind smile. ”But we’ll see…”

 

As a Hogwarts professor, Remus is allowed to take the Hogwarts Express back to London and so joins Harry and his friends in a compartment towards the end of the train, but spends most of the journey with his nose in a book, allowing Harry to chat with his friends and play Exploding Snap with Seamus. 

 

Draco has chosen to join them in the compartment as well, but curls up in the corner by the window and hides behind a huge tome as well. It’s not until they’re pulling into platform nine and three quarter that he looks up and meets Harry’s eyes briefly. 

 

”Harry, can I have a quick word with you? In private?”

 

”I’ll wait on the platform”, Remus tells Harry and grabs his trunk for him. 

 

Draco waits until everyone leaves the compartment, avoiding Harry’s gaze until they’re completely alone. 

 

”What is it, Draco?”

 

”I have to… I need to tell you something…” Draco says in a strained voice, his gaze flickering all over Harry’s face. ”Father — he — I tried to reason with him, but…”

 

Harry feels a sinking sensation inside and his ears are ringing, but he refuses to believe it, not until he hears Draco say it... He won’t believe it until Draco says the words…

 

”I— I’m s-sorry…” Draco mumbles in a strangled voice, blinking tears from his eyes. 

 

”I don’t understand”, Harry half-lies, because he _does_ understand what Draco’s telling him, he just doesn’t want to. 

 

”I c-can’t be your — your — you know…”

 

”What?”

 

”We can’t… Anymore… Father doesn’t app-prove… I’m s-sorry!” Draco chokes down a small sob and shoves past Harry and runs out of the compartment. 

 

Harry stays rooted to the spot, ears still ringing and chest tight and heavy. He can’t bring himself to move his feet or do anything, it’s like he’s stuck in a daze and it’s not until Remus comes back into the compartment to check on him that Harry manages to shake out of it. Just as soon as his daddy’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, Harry breaks down and cries into the man’s shoulder. 

 

Remus’s arms are strong and tight around Harry, making him feel safe… _If I fall apart now, it’s okay, because daddy will hold me together_ , he thinks and clings even more desperately to Remus. 

 

”Come on, pup…” Remus murmurs. ”We have to get off the train, come on…”

 

In the end, Remus carries Harry off the train and then Side-Alongs him back to their house. Sirius looks up in surprise when they appear with a _crack_ in the middle of the hallway, Harry draped over Remus’s shoulder like a cried-out toddler… 

 

”What happened?” Sirius says in alarm. 

 

”I’ll tell you later”, Remus whispers. 

 

He carries Harry to his room and tucks him into bed, petting his hair gently for a moment. 

 

”Get some rest, puppy… I’ll make you some hot chocolate, okay?”

 

”Mmmkay…” Harry mumbles, burrowing into his pillow gratefully. 

 

He dozes off for a while and the next time he blinks his eyes open, Remus is sitting on the edge of his bed, reading the same book he had his nose buried in during the train journey from Hogwarts. Two mugs of hot chocolate are steaming under a stasis charm on Harry’s bedside table and the sweet smell makes Harry’s tummy grumble softly. 

 

Remus looks up and smiles at him, putting the book down. 

 

”How are you feeling?” he asks kindly. 

 

”Better”, Harry mumbles and sits up against the headboard. 

 

Remus hands him one of the mugs and he eagerly blows on the hot liquid. 

 

”Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Harry hesitates for a second, but then shakes his head. 

 

”Are you sure?”

 

”Yeah. Not right now, maybe later…”

 

”Okay, you just let me know…”

 

”Daddy… You know how Pans said you’re the best DADA teacher we’ve had?”

 

”Yeah?”

 

”I agree with her.”

 

Remus smiles and blinks a suspiscious sheen out of his eyes before he says, ”Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

 

”Do you think Dumbledore will let you come back and teach next year too?”

 

” _Professor_ Dumbledore, Harry”, Remus chastisises him gently, then sighs and puts his mug down on the bedside table again, then turns to face Harry more fully. ”And yes. In fact, he has already offered me the post permanently.”

 

”Really?”

 

”I told him I would think about it, and talk it over with Sirius and you, before I make my decision…. So what do you think?”

 

”Are you kidding? I’d love it!”

 

”Well, then”, Remus says with a gentle smile. ”Then it’s settled…”

 

”Really? Dad already said yes?”

 

”I think he’s looking at houses in Hogsmeade as we speak…” 

 

Overcome with excitement, Harry flings himself at his daddy who immediately hugs him back and strokes the back of his head lovingly. 

 

For the first time since the Hogwarts Express Harry feels warm inside, like someone’s built a small fire out of happiness and hope in his chest. 

 

But it’s a short-lived sensation… As soon as Remus has kissed him goodnight and the only light left in the room is the small sliver breaking through the crack he’s left between the door and the frame, unwanted memories start flooding Harry’s mind… Images of Draco begin to dance around Harry’s head, much like the illustrations of his favourite tales — _The wizard and the hopping pot_ and _The warlock’s hairy heart —_ when Remus would read them to him when he was younger and charm the book to make the illustrations come alive… 

 

When he finally does fall asleep, his dreams are infected with the same images as well… So it’s with a heavy heart and even heavier eyelids that he drags himself into the kitchen the next morning and collapses in his seat at the table. 

 

”Harry, are you feeling all right?” Remus asks worriedly and presses his hand to his forehead before he’s even had a chance to open his mouth. 

 

”I’m fine”, Harry mumbles and leans away from his daddy’s touch. ”I just didn’t sleep very well…”

 

Two weeks into the summer holiday and Harry has yet to get a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t thought that it could possible get any worse than his last summer hols when he kept waiting in vain for Draco to send him a letter without knowing why he wouldn’t… But, as it turns out, not knowing is better than knowing… At least when he wasn’t sure, there was still room for a sliver of hope, but now… Now he knows for sure that Draco won’t write, because Draco doesn’t want to be Harry’s boyfriend anymore…

 

”Harry…” 

 

Remus gets up from his seat and rounds the table to envelop Harry in a big hug. Harry hadn’t even realised he’d been tearing up until his daddy starts rubbing his back and hushing soothingly. He drops his spoon with a clatter and gratefully burrows into his daddy’s chest, allowing himself to be comforted like the small child he isn’t anymore, just for a minute… 

 

”It’s going to be okay, you’ll see… You’ll work it out…” Remus says. 

 

”No we won’t”, Harry mumbles miserably. ”Mr Malfoy hates me now, he’s never going to let Draco be friends with me again…”

 

”He’ll come around”, Sirius offers awkwardly from across the table. ”And if he doesn’t, you know what they say… There are plenty more knarls in the daisy patch—”

 

”Sirius”, Remus admonishes. 

 

”What? I’m just saying… They’re not even thirteen yet!”

 

”So?” Remus counters. 

 

”So, what is the likelihood that Harry’s first crush at eleven will turn out to be the love of his life?”

 

”Well, it _has_ been known to have happened…” Remus mutters. 

 

Sirius doesn’t say anything else. In fact a tense silence spreads out in the kitchen. 

 

Harry sits back and wipes his face with his sleeve, looking between his dads uncomfortably. Remus is very obviously avoiding Sirius’s eye and instead glares at Harry’s porridge, even as he keeps rubbing Harry’s back gently. Sirius is throwing surreptitious glances in his husband’s direction, looking positively chastisized, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry says in a small voice. 

 

”You haven’t done anything wrong, Harry”, Remus says immediately and moves back to his own chair with a final pat on Harry’s shoulder. ”You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

” _I’m_ sorry, Harry”, Sirius says with a sigh. ”I forget sometimes what it was like to be twelve, thirteen… I didn’t mean to suggest that what you’re feeling isn’t real or…”

 

”It’s okay, dad”, Harry says quickly. 

 

”Okay, good”, Sirius says relieved and leans back in his chair. ”Good, good…”

 

”Did you know immediately?” Harry asks, looking between the two men curiously. ”When you were in first year, did you know?”

 

”Know what?” Sirius says. 

 

”I knew…” Remus murmurs, giving Harry a small smile. ”I knew the first time I saw him.”

 

”Knew what?” Sirius says with a frown.

 

”For me, it was love at first sight”, Remus clarifies, peering over at his husband with a secretive little smile. ”But I didn’t think he felt the same…”

 

”What?” Sirius yelps. ”But I _did_ —!”

 

”I thought his affections were directed elsewhere”, Remus continues, his smile twitching a little in amusement and his eyes getting a wistful, almost sad sheen. ”In fact, I was convinced of it… All throughout first and second year and well into our third—”

 

”Well, you could have said something”, Sirius grumbles.

 

”I didn’t want to lose either of you as friends”, Remus says and shrugs. 

 

 _Either of you_ , Harry thinks with pang and without his dads saying anything else, he just knows they’re talking about James Potter… Which is fine, or at least it _should_ be fine, but just like every other time it makes Harry feel very uncomfortable… 

 

”Thank Merlin for Lily”, Remus continues with a sad smile, mirrored by his husband. 

 

”May I be excused?” Harry asks and slides off his chair. 

 

”Oh, yes, of course”, Remus says. ”Are you sure you’re okay though, Harry?”

 

”I’ll be fine”, Harry lies. ”I just need to be alone for a bit… To think…”

 

 

*

 

 

”Oh, look, Harry”, Remus exclaims one morning and spreads out the Daily Prophet over the kitchen table and points to a small article headlined _Ministry of Magic employee scoops grand prize_.

 

Harry scans the text quickly, wondering why his daddy would expect him to care about some stranger winning the _Prophets_ annual draw, when the name _Weasley_ suddenly pops out from the text and he looks at the accompanying photograph instead. A grin immediately splits his face in two as he looks at the whole Weasley clan, waving happily at him from the picture. 

 

Ron is standing in the middle, even taller and ganglier than the last time Harry saw him, grinning proudly and holding up his pet rat Scabbers in one hand and waving furiously with the other. Next to him stands his only sister Ginny, also waving but not as ferociously as the rest of her family and she also keeps shaking her hair into her face as though hoping to hide it. 

 

Harry lets his gaze move on to the twins, book-ended by Mr and Mrs Weasley, probably as a precaution to prevent the two of them from causing any trouble, and his grin widens. He can’t think of a family more deserving of a large pile of gold than the Weasleys, who are as poor as they are kind. He still remembers how the twins leapt to his aid, even before they realised who he was, on his first journey on the Hogwarts Express, and how they and Ron were the only ones outside of Slytherin House who didn’t believe him to be the Heir of Slytherin…

 

”That’s great”, he says and hands the paper back to Remus. ”I’m really happy for them.”

 

”Yeah, me too… It says here they spent the prize money on a holiday in Egypt and will return home for the start of the school year. Maybe we could send them an owl and ask them if they would like to meet up in Diagon Alley?”

 

”Daddy…” Harry mutters.

 

”What?” 

 

”I’m almost thirteen! Stop embarassing me…”

 

A bark of laughter behind him makes Harry whip his head around just in time to have his entire head of hair ruffled mercilessly by Sirius before the man sidles up to Remus and plants a kiss on the man’s lips. 

 

”Dad…” Harry groans and slaps a hand over his eyes. 

 

”Oh, I’m sorry!” Sirius says and sounds anything but. ”So what’s so embarrassing this time?”

 

”Nothing”, Harry grumbles. ”Just stop trying to set me up on playdates like I’m a baby!”

 

”Ah, is this about Draco again”, Sirius says knowingly. 

 

Harry shoots him a glare and his grin falters. He looks over at Remus uncertainly.

 

”We don’t use the D word…” Remus stage whispers. 

 

”I’m right here, I can hear you!” Harry snaps. 

 

”Harry…” Remus says calmly. ”If you’re in a bad mood, you may be excused from the table.”

 

”No, I’m sorry”, Harry mumbles and slumps down in his seat.  

 

There is a moment of awkward silence, broken finally when Remus opens the _Prophet_ again and Sirius eagerly asks him what’s new in the world. 

 

”The Weasleys won the Prophets annual grand prize galleon draw”, Remus offers and tilts the paper to show him the article.

 

Suddenly Sirius cup explodes in his hand, sending steaming hot coffee and bits of porcelain flying all over the kitchen. Harry covers his head with his arms, but Remus is quicker in putting up a protection charm around him and the debris bounces off it and clatters onto the floor around his chair. 

 

”Sirius! What—?”

 

”Let me see that!” Sirius growls, snatching at the Prophet.

 

”What’s got into you?” Remus demands as the other man rips the paper from his hands. 

 

Sirius doesn’t respond, just peers at the picture of the Weasleys intently. 

 

”Wh-what’s going on?” Harry asks. 

 

”It’s okay, Harry”, Remus says immediately, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from his husband so it’s a small comfort for Harry who has never seen him look so apprehensive. 

 

”Look!” Sirius demands and thrusts the paper back in Remus’s face. ”Look at the picture! It’s him!”

 

”What are you—?”

 

”The rat — look at it! — It’s him! _It’s him!_ ”

 

”No…” Remus murmurs, frowning at the picture. ”No, it’s just a regular rat—”

 

”It looks exactly like him — _look!_ ”

 

”I _am_ looking!” Remus snaps back. ”And I’m telling you, it’s just a common garden rat!”

 

”Are you telling me that doesn’t look _exactly_ —?”

 

”It would be impossible to tell in this picture”, Remus interrupts. ”Even if you had a close-up of the rat, you’d never be able to tell in a photograph! Now, stop it — you’re scaring Harry!”

 

”Wh-what’s going on?” Harry asks, getting more and more alarmed by the second.

 

”Nothing, Harry”, Remus says. ”Don’t worry about it. It’s just… Your dad and I once knew a person who… Well, he was an animagus and he could turn into a rat, similar to your friend Ron’s pet, that’s all…”

 

"W-Well, what happened to him?"

 

"He... He disappeared", Remus says, avoiding Harry's eyes. 

 

”Do you know how long Ron has had his rat, Harry?” Sirius asks. ”Do you remember if he had it in first year?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”He did, and he told me it used to be his brother Percy’s before he got it.”

 

”It’s not him”, Remus insists. ”It can’t be.”

 

Sirius doesn’t look at all convinced, Harry thinks, but he drops the subject after a particularly stern look from Remus. 

 

On the morning of his birthday, Harry is woken up by his dads’ off-pitch singing and grins sleepily as he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes before reaching for his glasses.

 

Remus levitates the cake over to him and makes it hover in midair in front of his face so he can blow out the thirteen candles, before directing it to perch on top of a pile of books on the bedside table. 

 

Sirius squeezes onto the bed next to Harry and slings his arm around him, hugging him into his side and kissing his temple. Remus leans over and kisses him smack on his forehead, before handing him the small pile of presents from the foot of the bed so he can sit there. 

 

”I can’t believe you’re thirteen years old…” Remus says and gets a wistful look on his face. ”It feels like only yesterday Sirius brought you home…”

 

”Yeah…” Sirius agrees softly, squeezing Harry’s shoulder harder. ”Before you know it, he’ll be all grown up…”

 

”Do we have to do this every year?” Harry mutters. 

 

”Yep, it’s part of the birthday ritual”, Sirius says. ”Open your presents already, I want to see what you’ve got!”

 

Besides the gifts from his dads, Harry has received birthday cards and small gifts from a few of his Hogwarts friends and, to his astonishment, Hagrid the gamekeeper. 

 

”If it weren’t for you, he might still be in Azkaban”, Remus reminds him. 

 

”Yeah, I guess…” Harry says, but he still feels weird about it and puts Hagrid’s gift aside to open last. 

 

Ron has sent him a package of Chocolate Dung Beetles, the Egyptian equivalent of Chocolate Frogs, according to the accompanying birthday card and Seamus has sent him a magically modified Muggle comic book — all the pictures move, but their movements are limited to one apiece and they keep performing the same movement over and over, even if you tip the comic sideways or prod them with your wand — about one of the many ”super heroes” that the Irish boy always keeps telling them about. This particular hero is dressed in all black, with a black cape that reminds Harry of Professor Snape — although the similarities end abruptly after the cape — and is called Bat-Man. 

 

”That’s fun!” Sirius comments and starts flicking through the magazine when Harry moves on to his next gift. 

 

Granger has sent him a card again, even though Harry completely forgot to send her anything on _her_ birthday — or rather, he forgot to find out when her birthday is — and he’s also received cards from Blaise (”Happy birthday, Harry. With the kindest regards /Blaise”) and Adrian Pucey (”Happy birthday, Harry! Just to give you a heads up: Marcus is _not_ happy with you getting banned from quidditch! See you soon / Adrian”)

 

Harry sighs. With everything that has been going on and Draco breaking up with him, Harry had somehow managed to forget about his quidditch ban… _Third year is going to be awful, even with my daddy teaching DADA_ …

 

”There’s another card for you, Harry”, Remus says and Harry glances at it. ”It’s from the Weasley girl, Ginny.”

 

”Great”, Harry mutters. 

 

It’s not like he was expecting to get anything from Draco. They’re broken up now, so it would be weird if Draco sent him a card, but still… The fact that he hasn’t sent Harry anything is just a painful, unavoidable reminder that they _are_ in fact broken up, that they’re not even friends anymore…

 

”This picture book is quite violent”, Sirius comments with a frown. ”I don’t know that you should—”

 

”I’m not a kid”, Harry protests and grabs it from him. 

 

”Alright, who wants some cake?” Remus asks with a grin. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus Lupin: Chocolate Fanboy no.1   
> XD


	15. Tea leaves, Hippogriffs and Boggarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First week of third year is quite eventful...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. My apologies to those who read this before my spell check. I posted this in the early hours of the morning right after I finished writing and I just went back and read it and was horrified at the amount of misspellings, so sorry about that!
> 
> The main plot of PoA is moot, since Sirius isn't wrongly accused of murder and on the run, but that also means no Dementors, so that part's changed as well. And although Hermione is time-travelling all over the place, Harry sees none of that in my universe (which is bad news for Buckbeak, just to give you a heads up...) and the remainder of third year (which I will try to cover in just one chapter), Harry will focus on getting over Draco, then when that fails, get him back! (don't worry, they'll get back together soon!) 
> 
> Hope you like it! Comments are my fuel, so keep them coming :)

On the morning of the first of September, Harry wakes up to his daddy hollering his name from the floor below and with a groan he burrows deeper into his bed, desperately chasing after the nice dream he’d been having… He’s so close to catching the snitch… Just a few more inches—

 

”Harry! HARRY!”

 

”Five more minutes!” Harry yells back before slamming his pillow over his head. 

 

”That’s what you said five minutes ago! And five minutes before that! Now get up!”

 

With a strangled yell of frustration Harry hurls his pillow off his head and across the room. It bounces off the opposite wall and lands with an anti-climactic flop on the floor. 

 

Before the temptation to doze off again gets the better of him, Harry swings himself up to sitting and stretches his arms over his head even though his eyelids are still glued shut with sleep. Yawning, he reaching blindly for his glasses on the bedside table. 

 

”Harry James Potter—”

 

”I’M UP!”

 

Grumbling to himself, Harry makes his way downstairs and collapses onto his chair at the table. Remus huffs from somewhere to his right, probably standing at the stove… Harry rubs the heel of his hand into his eye and yawns again. 

 

”You’re not even dressed”, Remus mutters and puts the toast rack down in front of Harry. 

 

”I’m not awake”, Harry grumbles. ”I need coffee.”

 

”You’re a bad influence on him”, Remus says, but Harry figures it must have been directed at his dad and not him so he doesn’t respond.

 

”Here, Harry”, Sirius says and pours him a mug of coffee. 

 

”Have you finished packing?”

 

”Daddy, stop nagging me!” Harry whines and cradles his coffee mug close to his face and eagerly inhales the nutty, woody scent of the dark roast.

 

He can hear his dad laugh. Taking a couple of small sips of the hot liquid, he blinks his eyes open to see what the man finds so funny… Except he still can’t see anything… At first he thinks he’s still got too much sleep in his eyes, but as soon as he puts the mug down on the table and his vision immediately begins to clear, he realises what Sirius had laughed at… His glasses had got fogged up by the coffee. He takes them off and wipes them on the hem of his pyjamas. 

 

”Awake yet?” Remus asks, but he sounds amused rather than nagging now. 

 

”Almost”, Harry mutters and takes another large gulp of coffee before putting his glasses back on. 

 

His dads smiling faces immediately come into view and he gives them a small smile back. 

 

”Excited to go back to Hogwarts?” Sirius asks. 

 

”I guess…” Harry says, trying really hard to keep his smile in place but the thought of going back to school and going to sleep every night next to Draco and not be able to talk to him, or make him smile, or hold his hand, or kiss—

 

Harry takes a deep breath and focuses on draining his mug of coffee instead. 

 

”It’ll be alright, you’ll see”, Remus says as though he’d been able to read Harry’s mind. ”Now, finish up your breakfast so you can go finish packing… We need to leave in twenty minutes.”

 

”That’s ages!”

 

”Yeah, I’ve heard that before”, Remus mumbles. ”Don’t argue, Harry. Just finish up. I don’t want to have to stress when we get to the station…”

 

When they get to platform nine and three quarters, Harry hugs Sirius goodbye quickly and then turns away to give his dads some privacy. He catches sight of Seamus’s grinning face in the crowd and feels his face flush even as he gives the Irish boy a warning glare. The other slytherin simply laughs though and then lets out a catcall — ”Way to go, Professor!” — Harry squeezes his eyes shut and groans. 

 

Someone ruffles his hair and he quickly wrenches his head out of reach. Sirius chuckles and chases after him and doesn’t stop until Harry hides behind Remus who gives his husband an exasperated look. Sirius grins back unapologetically and winks at him. 

 

”Sorry Harry”, Remus murmurs quietly. ”I think the day has finally arrived when you’ve become more mature than your dad…”

 

Sirius snorts and leans in to plant another loud kiss on the other man’s mouth. 

 

”Will you two stop it already?” Harry hisses from behind Remus’s back. ”Everyone’s looking!”

 

”Have a good term, both of you”, Sirius says and steps back from Remus again. ”I’ll see you in the new house, soon.”

 

”First Hogsmeade weekend is on the fourteenth”, Remus reminds him. ”I’ll probably see you before then, though…”

 

”Unfair”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”One last hug for the road?” Sirius says with a grin. 

 

Harry rolls his eyes, but steps into the man’s waiting arms. 

 

”You be good for your daddy now”, Sirius murmurs quietly as he hugs him close. 

 

”Yeah, promise”, Harry whispers back. 

 

Remus grabs Harry’s trunk for him and climbs on board the Hogwarts Express, Harry trailing after him. They make their way down the train, looking for Harry’s friends and finally finds a compartment where Seamus and Blaise are sitting at the opposite end from Pansy and her girlfriends Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass. Harry gives the girls a pinched smile in greeting, but they ignore him and greet his daddy instead, their magically curled eyelashes fluttering madly. 

 

Remus smiles back politely and greets them back, then turns to Seamus and Blaise and says hello to them as well. After having heaved Harry’s trunk on to the overhead rack, he turns to Harry and says in an undertone that he can go sit in the Prefects’ compartment if Harry wants to spend some time alone with his friends. Harry frowns and shakes his head. 

 

”Are you sure?” Remus murmurs with a gentle smile. ”I wouldn’t mind…”

 

”No, I want you to sit with me”, Harry says. ”Please?”

 

”All right…” Remus says and gives his arm a quick squeeze, before choosing the seat opposite Seamus. 

 

”Professor Lupin, Sir”, Seamus says eagerly. ”Is it true Dumbledore chased Lockhart away from Hogwarts?”

 

Remus chuckles, ”I hardly think so… I came close a couple of times, but Professor Dumbledore is more patient and forgiving than I am.”

 

”He wasn’t that bad…” Daphne says, blushing. 

 

”If you say so, Miss Greengrass”, Remus replies kindly. 

 

”He was”, Pansy counters. ”Daph just had a massive crush on him!”

 

”Shut up!” Daphne hisses. 

 

”Hey Harry, where’s Draco?” Seamus asks. ”The train’s started moving… D’you think he missed it?”

 

”No, I’m sure he’s in another compartment, that’s all…” Harry mumbles uncomfortably. 

 

”Why would he sit in another compartment?” Pansy says immediately, narrowing her eyes at Harry who simply shoots her a glare back. ”Did you two have a fight?”

 

”None of your busieness…”

 

”I’m going to see if he’s okay”, the girl says haughtily. 

 

She jumps to her feet, Millicent and Daphne quickly mirroring her and then the three of them strut out of the compartment like a mother duck and her two ducklings. 

 

”Did you have a fight?” Blaise asks. 

 

”No… He’s just not allowed to be friends with me anymore”, Harry mutters and turns his head away to glare out the window. 

 

Remus reaches out and pets his head briefly, but doesn’t say anything. The other boys take the hint and start talking about quidditch instead. After a minute or so, as the conversation turns into a good old-fashioned argument over which team is better: Kenmare Kestrels or Wimbourne Wasps, Harry turns his head back.

 

”The Kestrels have been at the top of the league for the last five years—” 

 

”We have beat you and won the Cup eightteen times!”

 

”Not in the last five years!” Seamus insists. ”And trust me, this is our year! You just wait and see!”

 

”See the Tornados win”, Harry chimes in. 

 

”Oh shove off!” Seamus splutters. ”The Tornados! You’re having a laugh—!”

 

”We have Rogers and Lufkin—!”

 

”We have the fastest Seeker in the League!”

 

”Yeah, when he’s not having a narcoleptic fit and falls asleep on his broom”, Blaise cuts in drily. 

 

”Hey, that’s crossing a line”, Seamus growls, pointing a threatening finger at the other boy. 

 

Blaise just shrugs and smirks across the compartment at Harry who quickly covers his mouth with his hand to hide his grin. 

 

”Hey professor…” Seamus says. ”Are you a Tornados fan as well?”

 

”Not really” Remus says, closing the book he’s been reading. ”Harry’s other dad is though…”

 

”Daddy isn’t that into Quidditch”, Harry cuts in. 

 

”No, I enjoy watching a good match”, Remus says. ”But I never played myself and never had a favourite regional team growing up… When I was a young boy I was actually quite interested in a muggle sport called football that is quite similar to Quidditch.”

 

”You were?” Harry says, feeling a stab of ill-ease over not knowing this already. 

 

”Yes”, Remus says simply and smiles at him. ”My mother introduced me to the sport… She was a muggle”, he adds, glancing over at the other two boys. ”She even got me involved with a team in one of the villages we lived in, but I was never very good… In fact I think she rather fancied playing herself. Of course, at that time, it wasn’t very common for women to be playing sports in the muggle world, and she couldn’t exactly play Quidditch or Wizards Skittles, although I’m sure she would have loved to!”

 

”Really?” Harry says. 

 

”Oh yeah… If she’d have been magical I’m sure she would have made a great Seeker, she was both quick and perceptive! What about you, Mr Finnigan, Mr Zabini, do either of you play?”

 

Blaise shakes his head. 

 

”I might try out for the team this year”, Seamus says. ”With half the team gone, I reckon my chances are good…”

 

”Half the Slytherin team graduated last year?” Remus asks, surprised. 

 

”Yeah — well, not Harry, obviously.”

 

”Right…” Remus says, giving Harry a sidelong glance.

 

”You going to try out for the Seeker position?” Harry asks Seamus. 

 

”Nah, I reckon Flint will give that to Malfoy. I’m going to try out for either Chaser or Keeper. I think I’d make a fair Chaser, but everyone knows the Keepers get all the ladies…”

 

Blaise roll his eyes and sighs, ”Where is Draco… This conversation needs some more intelligence to balance out the dung that you come up with, Finnigan…”

 

Everyone but Seamus chuckle at that and then the conversation tapers off. Remus returns to his book and Harry slumps against him and dozes off until the Trolley Witch appears outside the compartment door. Remus waits for Harry to lean back before he gets up and buys them a Chocolate Frog each. 

 

”Who did you get?” Harry asks eagerly around a mouth-ful of chocolate and craning his neck to peer down at his daddy’s Chocolate Frog card. ”If you got Alberic Grunnion or Cliodne or—”

 

”I got Dumbledore”, Remus interrupts. ”But you can have it if you want.”

 

”No…” Harry says and sighs in disappointment. ”He’s in the Gold series… Do you want mine? It’s a Dragon card.”

 

”No, thank you.”

 

They finally arrive in Hogsmeade and Harry narrowly escapes a run-in with the gamekeeper Hagrid, ducking out of sight behind his daddy when he hears the booming voice calling for the first-years. Remus gives him an unimpressed look, but lets him sneak into one of the horse-less carriages unseen and ungreeted by the half-giant. However, once the carriage starts making its bumpy way to the castle, he makes Harry promise to write Hagrid a thank note for sending him a gift for his birthday. Harry starts to complain, saying that a book that nearly bit his wand hand off should hardly be considered a gift but a threat, but Remus cuts him off, ”It’s either one short note to Hagrid or long, extensive letters to everyone who sent you something for your birthday!”

 

”Fine, I’ll write him a note…” Harry grumbles. 

 

”Good”, Remus says and looks out the window, adding in an undertone half to himself, ”People will think you were raised by wolves…”

 

They trundle on through the darkness along the small path leading from the village to the castle on top of the hill, past the massive wrought iron gates flanked by a couple of winged boars carved out of stone, that can just be seen through the dim light of a couple of torches on the columns below and finally come to a stop below the stone steps of the castle. 

 

Harry catches a brief glimpse of white-blonde hair amongst the shadows, before Remus urges him on with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

 

Inside the vast Entrance Hall, the white marble staircase stretches out in front of them, almost glittering in the warm glow of the torches around the hall, but Harry and Remus follow the throng of people heading into the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling is pitch-black above them, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds most likely.

 

”Miss Granger, a word with you!” the stern voice of Professor McGonagall can be heard over the ruckus. 

 

Harry turns his head around instinctively to see a bushy mane of mousy-brown hair bob its way back through the crowd and disappear into the Entrance Hall again, his eyes locking briefly with Ron Weasley’s before he looks away again. 

 

Remus gives his shoulder a quick squeeze before he weaves his way to the front of the Hall and takes a seat next to Professor Snape at the Head Table. Harry smiles a little to himself, a surge of pride welling up in his chest at the sight… My daddy, a Hogwarts Professor… 

 

”Oi, Potter!” 

 

”Shut up, Seamus”, Harry says with a grin and joins the waving Irish boy at the end of the Slytherin table.

 

Draco is sitting with the girls on the other side of the table. Harry tries to catch his eye, but the blonde is either unusually interested in the Sorting hat that Professor Dumbledore has now placed on the stool at the front of the Hall — even before it’s started singing — or he’s trying really hard to avoid eye-contact with him. Harry swallows a sigh and looks over at the Hat when it finally does start belting out its song, and when the Sorting starts he tries to work up enough enthusiasm to at least clap his hands whenever a young child gets sorted into Slytherin. 

 

Finally the last timid-looking boy is Sorted into Hufflepuff and scurries over to the designated Hufflepuff table to a smatter of applause and Professor Dumbledore takes his place behind the small podium and beams down at them all. He looks exactly like Harry remembers him: thick, wavy, white hair and beard, a very crooked nose and almost annoyingly twinkly eyes behind half-moon spectacles. 

 

”Welcome!” he says in a carrying, booming voice and holds out his arms, the golden details on his plum-coloured robes glittering in the candle-light. ”Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we commence another excellent feast, I have an announcement to make…”

 

Harry’s stomach growls softly in protest. 

 

”I’m thrilled to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year… Firstly, Professor Lupin, who most of you had the pleasure of meeting at the end of last year when he filled in for our last Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, has kindly consented to fill the post permanently—”

 

There is an uproar of cheers and applause, the Gryffindors and Slytherin seemingly competing over who can make the most noise, and Harry laughs as his daddy ducks his head bashfully but gives them all a small, pleased smile. 

 

”Secondly”, Dumbledore says as soon as the noise dies down again. ”Since Professor Kettleburn retired last year in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs, our gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid has agreed to take up the position as Care of Magical Creatures teacher in addition to his gamekeeping duties!”

 

There is a smatter of applause, mostly from the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff side of the Hall. Harry quickly claps a few times as well when he imagines he feels Remus’s eyes on him. _I guess that explains the biting book,_ he thinks wryly. Who else but the man who keeps monsters as pets would set them a Monster Book…

 

Finally, the food appears on the table in front of them… Having had nothing but a Chocolate Frog to eat since his toast at breakfast, Harry’s stomach feels like it might start eating itself at any moment, so he eagerly digs in. Next to him Seamus starts wolfing down a Shepard’s pie with equal gusto and they end up fighting over the gravy boat good-naturedly. Across the table from them the girls and Draco seem to be having a similar eating contest, except whereas Harry and Seamus try to see who can fit the most food into their mouths at once, they do the opposite… Draco, Pansy and Daphne all move their food around on their plates to make it look like they’re eating more than they actually are… Millicent however seem to be moving her food around to make it look like she’s eating less than she is…

 

”Watch it there, Daph!” Seamus says teasingly. ”I think you actually swallowed—”

 

”Shut up, dorcus!” the girl snaps, her cheeks darkening to a rosy pink and she turns to Pansy and mutters something about _gross boys_. 

 

”She likes me”, Seamus leans in and mutters to Harry with a wink. 

 

”Whatever you say”, Harry mutters back, shaking his head. 

 

When most of the students have finished their pudding, Dumbledore stands up again and directs them all in another whimsical rendition of the school song. Harry moves his lips half-heartedly, silently begging for the song to end as soon as possible and hoping that the Weasley twins haven’t chosen a slow funeral tune again as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open now that his stomach is full and it’s getting late… Luckily, the twins seem to have gone for a quick foxtrot this year and finish before everyone else. After that it’s only a matter of minutes before the last few people round off their final tunes. 

 

When the newly made fifth-year Prefects Charles Machin and Imogen Stretton start gathering the first-years together, Harry and the other third-years slip past them and follow Cowley and Lympsham, now Head Boy and Girl, to the dungeons. 

 

”The new password is Parsletongue”, Cowley says in a loud and clear voice, with a sideways glance at Harry. 

 

”Really…” Harry mutters. 

 

Seamus snickers and shoves him in the back. Harry turns around and swats at his head. 

 

”Settle down”, Lympsham says in a long-suffering voice and starts herding them through the doorway into the Common Room. 

 

Harry sweeps his gaze over the familiar surroundings and smiles to himself. It’s a special feeling, walking into your Common Room again after a summer away… Almost like coming home. 

 

”Hey Harry”, Seamus says. ”Want to play Exploding Snap?”

 

”Nah, I’m knackered… I’ll see you in the morning”, Harry says and makes his way to the Third Year dormitory. 

 

He’s just finished changing into his pyjamas when the door creaks open again behind him. He turns around and his heart stutters in his chest as he suddenly finds himself staring into a familiar pair grey eyes… He opens his mouth to say something, anything… But before his brain has managed to come up with the word _hello_ , Draco has whipped his gaze away and walked over to one of the fourposter beds on the opposite side of the dorm. 

 

Harry’s _hello_ lodges itself in his throat and he blinks quickly, hoping to bat away the stinging sensation in his eyes… _Draco doesn’t even want to sleep in the bed next to mine… He wants to be as far away from me as possible…_

 

Harry curls up in his bed and turns his back to the room — and Draco — and pretends to fall asleep, but even after the last stragglers, probably Crabbe and Goyle, have started snoring in their beds, he still lies awake, trying not to cry.

 

The next morning, as Harry is getting ready in the communal bathroom, he mentally steels himself for the day to come; _It’s no good crying like a little baby every time I see him,_ he tells himself sternly as he squints at his own blurry reflection. _We’re in the same class and sleep in the same dorm, so I just have to get used to this_ … With a sigh, he puts his glasses on. 

 

As his reflection comes into focus, he sighs again but for a different reason… Taking in the emaciated cheeks, bushy eyebrows and ridiculously messy hair — even when it’s damp, like now! — not to mention the monstrosity of a scar cutting his forehead in two, Harry suddenly can’t think of _any_ reason why Draco would ever _want_ to be his boyfriend, and despite his earlier pep talk to himself, his eyes start stinging again… _Damn it,_ he thinks furiously and turns away from the mirror with a scowl. _Get it together!_

 

 _And you’re practically a midget,_ his mean inner voice adds. 

 

 _Shut up_ , he tells it and storms out of the bathroom. 

 

Their first lesson, according to their new timetables, is Transfiguration and for once Harry is eager to delve into the tough subject. If anything is going to take his mind off things, is the stern teachings of Professor McGonagall and the immense focus required in her subject, second only to Potions with Professor Snape. 

 

Again, Draco sits with the girls, as far away from Harry as possible. At this point, it’s starting to annoy Harry more than anything. 

 

Professor McGonagall tells them about witches and wizards that can change into an animal at will.

 

”I myself happen to be an animagus”, she adds and Harry jerks his head up, the word triggering a vague memory. ”Let me demonstrate.”

 

Suddenly, a tabby cat with spectacles marking around the eyes sit where Professor McGonagall stood only seconds ago and the class break our in applause. The old witch transforms back into her human form again and thanks them curtly, before continuing with her lecture. 

 

Harry tunes her out again, trying to think where he’s heard the term _Animagus_ before… Then he remembers. In the kitchen. His dads arguing over that picture in the _Prophet_. Some man they once knew who disappeared… His daddy said he’d been an animagus, that he could transform into a rat at will, and dad was sure Ron’s pet rat Scabbers was that man… And judging by his dad’s anger, they can’t have been on good terms with the man before he disappeared either… 

 

Harry keeps brooding over it for the rest of the lesson, but finally forgets about it again as they make their way to the next lesson. It’s their first new subject of the year — Divination — and if the long trek up the North Tower wasn’t enough to distract him, the gloomy, incense-heavy classroom surely is. 

 

Although, it doesn’t look like any classroom Harry has ever seen before, more like someone’s attic or possibly a shady tearoom. Instead of desks, the cramped, circular room was filled with little round tables and chintz armchairs and puffy pouffes. All the windows have their curtains drawn and the lamps are covered in red fabric, giving the whole room a red glow. 

 

Harry waits for Draco to choose a pouffe for himself next to Pansy and then deliberately chooses an armchair on the other end of the room. He imagines he can feel the blonde’s eyes on him but forces himself to keep staring ahead. 

 

”So where is she?” Seamus mutters as he drops down on the pouffe next to Harry. 

 

As if she’s heard him, a soft, misty voice suddenly slithers out of the gloom towards them, ”Welcome… How nice to see you in the physical world at last…”

 

The owner of the voice slowly steps out of the shadows and Harry blinks. The Divination Professor is a very thin and spindly woman, wrapped in layers upon layers of flimsy scarves and tinkling with beads and chains. Her butterbeer bottom spectacles are so thick her eyes are magnified to at least three times their natural size and makes her look like a giant insect. 

 

”Sit, my children… Sit…”

 

Harry glances around. Everyone is already sitting. 

 

”Welcome to Divination”, the Professor continues and sinks into a large winged armchair in front of the fireplace. ”My name is Professor Trewlawny. You might not have seen me before. You see, I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school _clouds_ my Inner Eye…”

 

She takes a moment to pause, as if waiting for a response or reaction of some sort, but no-one says anything, just exchange wary looks with each other. 

 

”So you have chosen to study the noble art of Divination… I must warn you at the outset, that if you do not possess the Sight, there is very little I can teach you…”

 

Harry suddenly remembers everything Sirius said about Divination before Remus made him be quiet and wonders if it’s too late to change to Arithmancy…

 

”Many witches and wizards, talented though they may be in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, or at memorising entire textbooks, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future… It is a Gift granted to few… You, girl—!” she says, turning suddenly to Daphne who lets out a tiny squeak of surprise. ”How is your grandfather?”

 

”My _grandfather_?” Daphne says with a frown. 

 

”…’s wife, your grandfather’s wife, is she quite well?”

 

”Grandma?” Daphne says suspiciously. ”Yeah? Why?”

 

”Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my dear…”

 

”What—!”

 

”We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear”, she turns to Theodore Nott who straightens up in alarm. ”Beware an old woman with dark hair…”

 

”And how old are you?” Nott mumbles as soon as the professor has turned away again, and several of the other students snicker. 

 

”In the summer term”, Professor Trewlawny continues as though she didn’t hear him. ”We shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with the fire-omens, that is — Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever.”

 

A sudden hush spreads over the small room, the snickers and whispers immediately dying down and they all exchange incredulous or uncomfortable looks with each other. 

 

”I wonder, dear”, says Professor Trewlawny to Pansy who immediately shrinks back into her armchair. ”Would you pass me that teapot?”

 

Sagging with relief, Pansy gets up and grabs the largest, silver teapot and hands it to the Professor. 

 

”Thank you, dear — and incidentally, that thing you are dreading, it will not transpire for another year, so you can relax…”

 

Pansy stares at the older woman, stricken and anything but relaxed. Harry can’t help but feel a small jolt of malice and hides a smirk behind his hand. Blaise gives him a knowing look from across the small table and smirks as well. 

 

 _What,_ Harry mouths. 

 

Blaise just shakes his head and looks away as Professor Trewlawny continues to instruct them to pair up and retrieve a set of teacups from the shelves. Harry quickly looks at Seamus and Blaise, but they shrug apologetically at him. Scowling, Harry turns to his other side and comes face to face with a sour-looking Millicent Bulstrode who instantly glares back and says she’s pairing up with Daphne. 

 

”Fine”, Harry mutters and stands up, looking around. 

 

Draco and Pansy have paired up, unsurprisingly and just as unsurprisingly, so have Crabbe and Goyle… Which leaves Nott… He and Harry eye each other warily, but there’s nothing for it. Harry shrugs and gestures for the other boy to come join him, but he points to Seamus and Blaise who have claimed the table for themselves. Nott has a table all to himself. Harry swallows a sigh and nods, making his way over… Nott goes to get them a teacup each while Harry gingerly lowers himself on a small, springy pouffe. Despite his best efforts, he’s now sitting within touching distance of Draco. _Just great_.

 

”Come to me and I will your cups”, Professor Trewlawny instructs. ”Then drink the tea until only the dregs remain — these you will swill around the cup three times using your left hand, then you will place the cup upside down on the saucer; wait for the tea to drain away, then hand the cup to your partner to read… Use pages five and six in your copies of _Unfogging the Future_ to interpret the patterns… I shall move among you, helping and instructing…”

 

”Here”, Nott says, handing him a steaming cup of tea. ”How’s it going anyway?”

 

”Great”, Harry mutters sarcastically and puts the cup down on the table, bending down awkwardly to blow on it. 

 

”What a load of rubbish, this, eh?” 

 

”Yeah… How come you chose it?”

 

”Figured it’d be an easy O — what about you?”

 

”Yeah, same”, Harry lies. 

 

They sip their scalding hot tea carefully, but after Trewlawny has swept past them for the third time, they decide to chug it and Harry burns the roof of his mouth in the process, swearing under his breath. 

 

”What’s that, my dear?” Trewlawny says directly behind him and Harry startles. 

 

”N-Nothing…” he mutters and quickly swill his cup around before thrusting it into Theodore’s hands then grabbing his cup from him in return and pretends to study the soggy tealeaves intently until the woman sweeps away again. 

 

”Okay…” he mutters, opening his book to page five. 

 

”See anything interesting?” 

 

”I don’t know…” Harry more or less whines. ”That perfume or whatever it is starting to give me a headache… I see a load of soggy brown stuff… I guess that bit there looks a bit like a cloud…”

 

Theodore cranes his neck and peers into the cup as well, ”I think it kind of look like an acorn…”

 

”Oh yeah, you’re right… What does that mean then, let’s see… _A windfall, unexpected gold_ ”, Harry recites, then gives the other boy a sharp look. ”You knew that!”

 

Theodore grins cheekily, ”My turn!”

 

Harry just rolls his eyes and puts the cup down, ”Go for it…”

 

”Well… Let’s see… Oh, that’s definitely a heart—”

 

”Shut up”, Harry snaps. ”Stop making stuff up! And don’t — don’t check the book first! I know you’re cheating—”

 

Theodore snickers and holds the cup out of reach as Harry makes a grab for it. 

 

”Let me see that, dear” the wispy voice Trewlawny interrupts them suddenly and she grabs the cup out of Theodore’s hand and peers into it with narrowed eyes while turning it around slowly. ”Ah, the falcon… My dear, you have a deadly enemy…”

 

”Oh no”, Harry mutters sarcastically, glancing over at Blaise and Seamus who are both stifling their laughter behind their hands. 

 

”The club… An attack, oh dear, this is not a happy cup… The skull… Danger in your path, my dear…”

 

Everyone in the room hold their breaths and watch transfixed despite themselves as Professor Trewlawny continues to spin Harry’s cup and speaking in an almost dazed voice and then suddenly, on the final turn, she gasps in horror and lets out a scream — everyone recoils in alarm and Harry’s heart starts hammering harder in his chest, even though his rational mind is telling him this whole thing is humbug…

 

”Oh my dear boy — my poor, poor dear boy”, Trewlawny says in a weak voice, clutching her heart and shutting her eyes as though in pain. 

 

She winks into her armchair and continues to whimper, ”Oh no… No… Kinder not to say… Don’t ask me…”

 

”What is it?” someone speaks up finally, and to Harry’s amazement, it’s Draco. 

 

”My dear”, Trewlawny says in a quivering voice and opens her magnified eyes once more, fixing them on Harry. ”You have the Grim…”

 

A deafening silence descends on the room and everyone turns to stare in horror at Harry. He swallows thickly and attempts to give a chuckle… Seamus is the only one who doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on and he quickly leans in to talk to Blaise who whispers something back. Harry quickly turns away before the Irish boy reacts to the information. 

 

”Oh, my dear boy!” Trewlawny cries dramatically. ”It is the worst of all omens! I am so sorry, my dear, to be the bearer of such diabolical news—”

 

”You can’t just say something like that!” Draco says, scowling at her and despite everything, Harry’s heart leaps in his chest. 

 

”I am sorry”, Trewlawny says again, looking anything but. ”I believe we ought to end the lesson here. I cannot possibly expect you to carry on after such horrible news…”

 

Draco quickly stuffs his copy of Unfogging the Future into his book bag and hurries over to the trapdoor, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Pansy and Daphne hurries after him, but Harry stays seated, smiling to himself. 

 

”You’re looking very cheerful for someone who’s just seen their death omen”, Seamus Irish lilt speaks up behind him. 

 

”I didn’t see anything”, Harry counters. ”And I think all this tea leaf stuff is hokum anyway.”

 

”Yeah, that _would_ make you grin like a lunatic”, Seamus comments drily.

 

”Whatever…” Harry says, his grin widening. 

 

Harry’s joy is short-lived however, since Draco is even more adamant about avoiding any and all contact with him it turns out, even going so far as to skip lunch altogether and despite his stomach growling in protest, Harry finds himself picking at his food like the blonde usually does. 

 

After the perfume-heavy air of the Divination classroom and then his lacking appetite, Harry is relieved to get out of the castle after lunch, especially since the air is crisp and clean after the night’s heavy rain. He gulps down several lungfuls and feels his headache start to dissipate almost immediately. 

 

He waits for Seamus and Blaise to catch up and then they make their way across the damp lawn towards Hagrid’s hut for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. When they get there, Draco and the girls are already there, as are a few of the Gryffindors. Harry ignores Draco and waves hello to Ron and Granger instead. 

 

Hagrid is standing in front of the door to his hut, waiting for them all to gather around and by the looks of it he’s getting impatient. 

 

”C’mon now, get a move on!” he calls out to the last stragglers and waves his massive arm for them all to get nearer. ”Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”

 

The students follow him at a wary pace, but they all exchange relieved looks and relax as a group when the gamekeeper veers away from the Forbidden Forest and instead leads them to an empty paddock. 

 

”Everyone gather round the fence here! That’s it — make sure yeh can see. Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books —”

 

”How?” Pansy pipes up, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at the half-giant.

 

”Eh?” Hagrid says in confusion.

 

”How are we supposed to open our books?” Draco clarifies coolly, holding up his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_ which he’s bound shut with a length of rope. 

 

Other people take out their copies too, some of them crammed into tight bags or clamped together with huge bull-clips, others, like Harry, have belted their books shut. 

 

”Hasn’ — hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?” asks Hagrid with fast faltering enthusiasm. 

 

They all shake their heads. 

 

”Yeh’ve got ter _stroke_ ’em”, he says as though it’s the most obvious thing and the world and Harry barely refrains from letting out an incredulous huff, silently reminding himself that he still owes the half-giant a thank you-note and really should try and stay in his good books. ”Look…”

 

He grabs Draco’s book from him and tears the rope off. The book immediately tries to clamp down its jaws on his hand, but Hagrid smoothly moves it away and drags the forefinger down the book’s spine. It shivers and then falls open. 

 

”Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Draco sneers as Hagrid hands it back to him. ”We should have stroked them! Why didn’t we guess?”

 

”I… I thought they were funny…” Hagrid says uncertainly. 

 

”Oh, very funny”, Pansy scoffs. ”Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!”

 

”Shut up, Parkinson!” Granger says, receiving a bucktoothed grimace from the Slytherin girl in response. 

 

”Righ’ then…” Hagrid says, clearly having lost his thread. ”So yeh’ve got yer books an’… an’ now yeh need the magical creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go an’ get ’em. Hang on…”

 

They watch silently as he strides off towards the forest. As soon as he’s out of sight, Draco and Pansy begin to mutter about the outrage of Dumbledore letting such an oaf teach classes. 

 

”My father will have a fit when I tell him…” Draco sniffs. 

 

”Shut up, Malfoy!” Ron barks suddenly. 

 

”Was I talking to you, Weasel?” Draco shoots back. ”I don’t think so—”

 

” _You—_!”

 

But whatever Ron was about to say gets drowned out by Lavender Brown’s terrified squeal. Everyone startles and turn to see what she’s pointing at. Hagrid comes lumbering back towards them and trailing behind him is a herd of… _Hippogriffs_ … Harry stares in wonder, feeling a mix of dread and amazement. As the creatures get nearer to the paddock and he can see their plumage gleam in the sunlight, he can’t help but admire them… 

 

But still… _Hippogriff!_ What’s Hagrid got planned for their NEWTS, _dragons_? With a sinking feeling, Harry realises that that is actually very likely…

 

The students draw back as Hagrid leads the hippogriffs up to the fence in front of them and tether them to it. 

 

”Hippogriffs!” Hagrid exclaims happily. ”Beautiful creatures aren’ they? So… If yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer…”

 

No-one seems to want to, but Ron and Hermione, who both seem determined to make Hagrid’s first lesson a good one, cautiously takes a few steps closer to the fence anyway. 

 

Harry stays where he is. As beautiful as the creatures might be — and they actually are, Harry has to agree with Hagrid in this particular instance — he rather not have to explain to his daddy how he ended up in the hospital wing, if one of them decides to peck out his eyes for some reason… 

 

”Now, firs’ thing yeh need ter know abou’ Hippogriffs is they’re proud”, Hagrid says. ”Easily offended. Don’t never insult one, ’cause it might be the last thing yeh do…”

 

Great, Harry thinks, glancing at the large creatures again. They look less and less beautiful as Hagrid talks, he thinks. Especially when they toss their heads and flap their massive wings. They really don’t seem to like being tethered at all…

 

”Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs’ move. It’s polite, see? Yeh walk towards ’im and then yeh bow… If he bows back, yeh can go ahead an’ touch ’im… If he doesn’ then yeh better back off sharpish ’cause those talons hurt… Now, who wants ter go first?”

 

Most of the class backs further away in answer and Hagrid’s face falls. 

 

”I’m fine thanks”, Harry mutters to Seamus who snickers. 

 

”Yeah, remember your tea leaves, Harry…”

 

”No-one?” Hagrid says with a pleading look. ”It’s not dangerous, as long as yeh take it easy and bow like I said…”

 

”I’ll do it”, Ron says finally and steps right up to the fence. 

 

”Good man, Ron!” Hagrid exclaims happily. ”Right then — let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak!”

 

Hagrid unties one of the chains and leads a silvery grey Hippogriff away from the herd, as Ron clambers over the fence. Removing Buckbeak’s leather collar last, Hagrid gestures for Ron to come closer. 

 

”Easy, now, Ron… Yeh’ve got eye contact, now try not ter blink — Hippogriffs don’t trust yeh if yeh blink too much — That’s it, good… Good… Now, bow… A little more… Little more… Tha’s it…”

 

Harry finds himself holding his breath as he watches Ron bow low in front of the massive beast that just keeps staring haughtily at him. But then, to his immense relief, the Hippogriff bends its’ front knees and bows back!

 

”Well done, Ron!” Hagrid shouts ecstatically. ”Well done! Right — yeh can touch ’im now. Pat ’is beak, go on!”

 

The Gryffindors break out into applause as Ron cautiously moves his hand up the Hippogriff’s beak and pats him a few times. Harry smiles and claps his hands a few times as well. 

 

”Right then, Ron”, Hagrid says matter-of-factly. ”I think he might let yeh ride ’im now!”

 

”What?” Ron squeaks. 

 

”Go on, it’s perfectly safe! He’s already accepted yeh, so it’s not dangerous at all. C’mon, up yeh get—”

 

Before Ron has a chance to protest or back away, Hagrid grabs him under the arms and hoists him up to perch on top of the Hippogriff and then gives the creature’s back a gentle slap. The massive, twelve-foot wings expand and flex, and then the Hippogriff kicks off the ground and soars into the sky. 

 

Harry tilts his head back and watches as the silhouette darts across the bright afternoon sun, before zooming back down again and landing gracefully in the paddock. The Gryffindors cheer and Harry and some of the Slytherins clap their hands. A quick glance over the class tells Harry that everyone but Draco and Pansy seem to be a least a little impressed, but the blonde looks outright disappointed when Ron slides off the Hippogriff in one piece and grinning proudly. 

 

”Okay, who else wants a go?” Hagrid yells. 

 

After having seen Ron fly one of them successfully, Harry feels a little safer stepping into the paddock. He won’t want to ride one, but he’ll at least pat one, he thinks. If he can get it to bow for him, that is…

 

Hagrid guides him over to a chestnut Hippogriff and Harry takes a deep breath to calm his beating heart before slowly approaching the creature. It looks even more massive close up. But it tilts its head slightly to the side as though curious and blinks its huge eyes, unlike Buckbeak who had given Ron a dead stare, so Harry thinks he’s probably okay to expose his neck… He bows low, like Ron did, and waits with bated breath… 

 

The Hippogriff gives off a soft caw and when Harry glances up, he can see it bowing before him. Releasing a relieved breath, Harry beams at it and walks up to pet it on the side of the beak. It closes its eyes and moves its head into the caress. Harry chuckles. 

 

Looking up to try and catch any of his friends’ eyes so he can share this moment of triumph with them, Harry accidentally locks eyes Draco who is patting Buckbeak on the head a few yards away. Harry’s heart stutters, but Draco immediately looks away and scowls at the creature in front of him. Harry can see his mouth move as he says something to Pansy and the girl nods, her disdainful gaze darting over to Ron and Granger as she sneers. 

 

Suddenly, Buckbeak lets out a furious caw and in the next moment, before anyone has realised what’s happened, Draco screams and crumples to the ground. Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and before he knows what he’s doing he’s running towards him… 

 

Hagrid shoves him aside with such force that he gets knocked off his feet and fall to the ground and he quickly scrambles to his feet again to see the gamekeeper wrestle the enraged Hippogriff away from Draco who lies curled up on the ground, wailing and… Harry’s ears start ringing and his heart beats a tattoo in his chest… Bleeding… So much blood…

 

”I’m dying!” Draco wails. ”I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!”

 

”Yer not dyin’!” Hagrid says in a strained voice and finally manages to get Buckbeak into his collar again, then bends down and scoops Draco into his arms. ”Someone help me — gotta get ’im outta here!”

 

Harry hurries forward and opens the gate to the paddock so that Hagrid can carry Draco out and then run up to the castle with him. Everyone exchange panicked looks and then quickly hurry out of the paddock as well. 

 

”What about the others, they’re not tethered—” Blaise says uncertainly. 

 

”Not our problem!” Pansy snaps. ”Poor Draco! I’m going to go see if he’s okay—”

 

Harry, who was just about to go tearing after Hagrid and Draco himself, stops and frowns to himself. 

 

”We’ll all go”, Blaise tells him quietly. ”He’s our friend too. Come on…”

 

Harry gives him a small, grateful smile and they start walking quickly back towards the castle, leaving the Gryffindors to deal with the Hippogriffs. As they get nearer they start running and they take the stairs to at a time… Thundering into the Entrance Hall, they make a beeline for the marble staircase.

 

Remus comes running round a corner at the other end of the corridor just outside the Hospital Wing but stop abruptly and lets out a breath of relief when he sees Harry. 

 

”Oh, thank goodness”, he pants. ”I just heard someone got hurt — what — _what happened_?” he adds worriedly as Harry runs up to him and his pinched face registers. 

 

”Draco”, Harry says in a strained voice. 

 

”Oh no…” Remus sighs and pulls Harry into his arms, but Harry only lets himself be hugged for a second before he pulls away again. 

 

”I need to go see that he’s okay…”

 

”Yeah, of course… Come on…”

 

Remus puts his arm around Harry’s shoulders and walks with them, but they’re all stopped at the door by Madam Pomfrey who refuses to let them in. 

 

”Mr Malfoy does not want any visitors”, she says firmly. 

 

”But I — We have to see him!”

 

”I’m sorry, Mr Potter. I can’t let you in. Mr Malfoy doesn’t want you here…”

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

”Please, Poppy…” Remus says. ”Can you just tell us if he’s going to be okay?”

 

”Oh, he’ll be fine”, she reassures him. ”He just needs a blood replenishing potion and some rest for now. Then we’ll see about the wound — nasty gash — but I’ve healed worse!”

 

”Thank you”, Remus says. 

 

Madam Pomfrey nods curtly and slams the door in their faces. Harry stares incredulously at it. 

 

”But Pansy’s in there — that’s not fair!”

 

”Come on, Harry… You have to respect Draco’s wishes…”

 

”But… What, it’s just me that’s not allowed to see him then? _Fine_! Fine, I’ll just go and you guys can visit him”, he tells his friends and then turns away and storms back down the corridor.

 

”Harry, wait…” Remus calls after him and then jogs to catch up with him at the end of the corridor. ”Wait…”

 

”What?” Harry snaps thickly. 

 

”Come on… This way”, Remus says gently and steers him down the passage on the right.

 

He leads him to a classroom that Harry wouldn’t have known was the DADA classroom at all if he hadn’t recognised the paintings in the hallway outside. Without the many portraits of Lockhart crowding the walls, the room is quite unrecognisable. Remus keeps ushering him to the back of the classroom, then opens the door to the office and lets him step inside. 

 

Even in his upset state, Harry can’t help but marvel at all the cool things his dad has managed to collect in the small space and peers curiously at a rather large water tank just inside the door that seemed to house a green tentacled creature with sharp little horns. 

 

”It’s a Grindylow”, Remus tells him. ”You’re going to learn all about them in a few weeks…”

 

”It’s a little scary-looking”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”Come and have a seat, Harry…” 

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the Grindylow and follows his daddy to the desk. He sits down in the chair and silently accepts the piece of chocolate Remus hands him and takes a small bite. 

 

”Do you want to tell me about what happened?”

 

”Don’t you have a class to teach?” Harry mumbles, thinking the last thing he wants is to prevent his daddy from doing his job or Dumbledore won’t let him keep it. 

 

”Not for another forty minutes. But you do in _twenty_ minutes.”

 

”You know my timetable?”

 

”Of course I do, I’m a worrier, I need to know everything”, Remus says.

 

Harry smiles and nods, ”Yeah, I know that…”

 

”So…”

 

Harry swallows thickly. He doesn’t even know where to start… Finally he just tells Remus about what happened in Care of Magical Creatures and how scared he’d been that Draco was seriously hurt. Remus nods in understanding, then studies him silently for a moment. Harry looks down and nibbles on the chocolate bar. 

 

”And what is really bothering you?” Remus says. ”Is it that Draco didn’t want any visitors?”

 

”He didn’t want me to visit him”, Harry says in a small voice. 

 

”You don’t know that, Harry—”

 

”Yeah _, I do_! He doesn’t talk to me at all anymore! He always makes sure to sit as far away from me as possible in class! He chose another bed, so he wouldn’t be sleeping next to mine like before! He hates me—!”

 

”Hey…” Remus murmurs and wraps his arms around him. ”Shhh… Calm down… Listen… He doesn’t hate you, Harry.”

 

”Yes, he does—!” Harry sobs. 

 

”No, he doesn’t. He might act like it right now, because it’s easier that way. But he doesn’t really hate you. Far from it, I think.”

 

”How do you know?” Harry says in a small voice. 

 

”Well… This might be hard for you to wrap your mind around, but I was once a teenager too…”

 

Harry gives a watery chuckle and wipes his face on his sleeve. 

 

”And I know a thing or two about being forced to… go against my nature and hide who I am…”

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”I just mean that if Draco’s father has told him he can’t spend time with you and he actually really wants to, it might be easier for him to keep his resolve and stay away from you if you’re angry with him, so he pushes you away…”

 

”But Mr Malfoy’s not even here! How’s he going to know if Draco sleeps in the bed next to mine or talks to me at lunch or reads my stupid tea leaves?”

 

Remus sighs. 

 

”And why does he have to care what his father thinks anyway?” Harry grumbles. 

 

”Don’t you?” Remus counters. 

 

”What? Well, yeah… But… That’s different.”

 

”So if Sirius and I told you we don’t approve of your relationship with Draco, what would you do?”

 

”I… I… I don’t know”, Harry says honestly. 

 

Remus smiles kindly at him and strokes his hair, ”Well, we’ll never have to find out…”

 

 

*

 

Draco doesn’t return from the Hospital Wing for several days and Harry’s worry is slowly eating away at him, so when the blonde suddenly struts into the Potions Classroom halfway through Double Potions with the Gryffindors on Friday morning, his arm in a sling but otherwise in perfect health and smirking, Harry almost forgets they’re supposed to be on bad terms and perks up. At the sound of Pansy’s squeal however, he perks right back down then…

 

”Settle down, settle down”, Professor Snape says idly, barely looking up from the potion he’s inspecting. 

 

”Does it hurt terribly, Draco?” Pansy says in a hushed voice. 

 

”A little…”

 

Draco grabs his cauldron and zigzags between the desks, managing to find the desk furthest away from Harry without even having looked in his general direction since stepping foot inside the classroom. Harry hunches over in his seat and scowls to himself. 

 

”Sir”, Draco calls out after a minute. ”Sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm…”

 

”Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him”, Snape says without looking up. 

 

Harry can see the tips of Ron’s ears go beet red and wonders if the Gryffindor will refuse or start a fight… But after only a second’s hesitation he starts to cut into Draco’s roots. Harry goes back to his own daisy roots, carefully dicing them into identical pieces. 

 

”Professor, Weasley’s mutilating my roots, Sir…”

 

Professor Snape straightens up and swoops down on the Ron and Granger, narrowing his eyes at what must be very sloppily cut roots judging by his scowl.

 

”Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.”

 

”But, Sir—!”

 

” _Now._ ”

 

Ron shoves his own roots over to Draco’s side of the desk and then picks up his knife again, probably to try and save the uneven pieces he’d cut for the other boy.

 

”And, Sir, I’ll need this Shrivelfig skinned…”

 

”Weasley, skin Malfoy’s Shrivelfig”, Snape says smoothly, then turns to give Seamus a sharp look when the boy lets out a snort of laughter. 

 

”Hey, Daph…” the Irish boy stage-whispers. ”Will you skin _my_ Shrivelfig—?”

 

”That’s _enough_ , Finnigan. Back to work”, Snape says sternly.

 

”Yes, Sir…”

 

Snape remains hovering behind Seamus for a moment, to ensure he really does get back to work, but something catches his eye and with a sharp intake of breath he descends on Neville Longbottom who startles and drops his ladle into his fizzing cauldron. Harry can see some of the potion splash over the side… The potion that should be a bright, acid green by now, except Longbottom has somehow managed to turn his—

 

”Orange”, Snape growls. ”Really, Longbottom? Orange! Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only _one_ rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that just _one dash_ of leech juice would suffice? _What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?_ ”

 

Longbottom just stands there trembling and staring up at Professor Snape as though he was a banshee. He looks close to tears. 

 

”Please, Sir”, Granger says. ”Please, I can help Neville out it right —”

 

”I don’t remember asking you to _show off,_ Miss Granger!” Snape snaps, then turns back to Longbottom again. ”At the end of the lesson, we will feed a few drops of your potion to your toad and see what happens to it, Longbottom. Perhaps that will finally encourage you to _follow instructions_ …”

 

Longbottom looks close to fainting by the time Snape has swept away again. Harry feelings a twinge of sympathy for the boy… But he can see Granger is giving him directions through the corner of her mouth, so he isn’t that worried about the boy or his toad. 

 

While their potions are simmering, they all clear their equipment away and then gather around Longbottom’s cauldron on Snape’s request. The professor grabs Trevor the toad firmly in one hand and with the other dips a small spoon into Longbottom’s potions, that has now changed colours and looks green at least, if more of a mossy nuance rather than the acid green a perfect Shrinking Solution should be. 

 

”Now, let’s see what happens to Longbottom’s toad…” Snape says. ”If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned…”

 

”Wicked”, Seamus whispers excited and Harry gives him a light shove. 

 

Professor Snape trickles a few drops of the potion into Trevor’s mouth and everyone watches with bated breath as the toad gulps… Then suddenly, with a small pop, Trevor the tadpole lies wriggling in the palm of Professor Snape’s hand. The Gryffindors cheer and the Slytherins glance at Snape’s sour face with trepidation. 

 

”Five points from Gryffindor”, he snarls as he drops the anti-solution onto Trevor and then thrusts the fully grown toad back into Longbottom’s hands. ”I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”

 

Harry almost feels like laughing at the crestfallen look on Granger’s face, but Ron’s reddening ears helps him keep a straight face… It _is_ kind of funny how Snape refuses to show any favouritism towards the Gryffindors, like most of the other teachers do… But poisoning Longbottom’s toad might have been a step too far, Harry thinks. But even if it had been poisoned, he feels positive that Snape had an antidote ready. He wouldn’t _actually_ kill a student’s pet. 

 

”Looks who’s got a spring in his step for the first time this week…” Seamus comments with a grin as he sidles up to Harry just inside the doors of the Potions classroom and waggles his eyebrows when Harry rolls his eyes in response. ”Now, you either really hate animals, _or_ …”

 

”Shut up, dorcus”, Harry mutters and gives him a playful shove. 

 

”Move it along, boys…” Snape says tiredly from the front of the classroom. 

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry calls back and then shoves Seamus in front of him out the door. 

 

Harry actually has another reason to be excited today, that has nothing to do with Draco being back or Snape terrorising the Gryffindors… Their last lesson of the day is Defence Against the Dark Arts, their first of the year! But before then, they have to sit through Charms, Transfiguration and then walk down to Hagrid’s hut for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson since Draco got attacked by the Hippogriff. 

 

The Slytherins were first to arrive, even though their trepidation had made them all drag their feet. But they needn’t have worried as it turns out. Hagrid, who looks extremely downcast when they gather around him, instructs them to pair up and pick a Flobberworm per pair. Harry stares down at the ten-inch, toothless brown worm wriggling on the ground between him and Seamus. 

 

”Grab some lettuce from the this barrel and feed it to yer Flobberworm”, Hagrid says. 

 

Seamus goes to fetch a bowl of lettuce for him and Harry and puts it down on the ground next to the Flobberworm. Harry grabs a piece of lettuce and holds it out uncertainly, studying the wriggling worm. 

 

”Er… Which end is the — eh — mouth end?” he mutters. 

 

”Well, it just squirted something out of this end, so I’m guessing that one…” Seamus says. 

 

Harry holds the piece of lettuce close to the other end, but quickly recoils as mucus suddenly squirts out of what he’d assumed was the mouth. 

 

”Or not…” Seamus mutters. ”Hey, look at the lions…”

 

”What?” Harry says in alarm. 

 

He looks around half-expecting to see Hagrid lead a couple of live lions into their midst, but Seamus points to the approaching Gryffindors. 

 

”Oh… What about them—?” Harry says, but then he sees it too. 

 

All the Gryffindors are beaming and chatting excitedly. Even Granger looks happy, despite being late for class. 

 

”Hey, Harry!” Ron shouts. ”Your dad’s bloody brilliant! We just had the best DADA lesson _ever_!”

 

”Really?” Harry says with a proud smile as the redhead walks up to him. ”What did you get to do?”

 

”Oh it was wicked — Hey, Finnigan”, he says casually as he drops down on the ground next to their Flobberworm. ”We got to face a real life Boggart! And — this is the best part — Neville went first, right? And —” Ron snickers. ”His biggest fear is Snape…”

 

”No…” Harry says with a chuckle. ”The Boggart turned into _Snape_?”

 

” _Yes!_ And _then_ — Oh, it was priceless! Professor Lupin — well, your dad — he showed us this spell that makes the thing you’re scared of turn into something funny-looking, so he told Neville to picture Snape in _his grandmother’s clothes!_ ”

 

”He didn’t…” Harry says and laughs incredulously. ”And did the Boggart—?”

 

”Oh yes!”

 

”Oh man, I want to see that!” Seamus says and quickly looks around. ”Think anyone in our class is scared of Snape, Harry?”

 

”Not likely”, Ron mutters. ”You lot don’t have any _reason_ to be… Hey, what _is_ this thing?”

 

Harry looks down at the mucus-spitting Flobberworm. He can’t wait for this lesson to be over…

 

By the time they reach the DADA classroom, the whole class is already buzzing with excitement, the stories from the Gryffindors’ lesson having reached all of them. But if Remus finds their enthusiasm odd when he walks into the classroom, he doesn’t let on. He merely smiles back at them all and instructs them to leave their book bags behind and follow him. 

 

They all eagerly trail after him as he strides down the corridor and then turns into a second corridor before he stops outside the staff room’s door and holds it open for them. They all file inside, looking around curiously. Harry, who has already been inside the staff room on a couple of occasions, is less curious about the decor and more intrigued about the Boggart that he hopes they’ll all get to encounter.

 

”This way…” Remus says, gesturing for them to follow him into far corner of the room where an old wardrobe stands and as Remus stands next to it, it gives a sudden wobble and bangs against the wall. 

 

Harry and the others exchange excited looks. 

 

”Can anyone guess what’s inside here?” Remus asks with a knowing smirk as several people raise their hands and he points at Millicent, nodding when she says it’s a Boggart. ”I believe some of you have friends in Gryffindor… Yes, that is correct, Miss Bulstrode. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces, like wardrobes, the gaps beneath beds or cupboards under sinks. I once found one in an old grandfather clock. This particular one moved in yesterday afternoon and I asked the Headmaster if the staff could leave it for a few days so that my third-years could have something to practise on…Now, who can tell me, what exactly a Boggart _is_? Draco?”

 

The blonde who has been lurking at the back of the group startles slightly and blushes a subtle pink, but straightens up respectfully and mumbles, ”It’s a shape-shifter, Sir…”

 

”Yes…” Remus says slowly. ”Go on…”

 

”Well it… It can assume whatever shape the person is frightened of… It kind of lives off fear.”

 

”Exactly! Very well put, Draco — Have a point for Slytherin — No-one knows what a Boggart looks like when it’s alone. The Boggart inside this wardrobe has not assumed its form yet, because it cannot know what the person on the other side of the door fears the most until it comes face to face with that person… So when I let him out in a minute, it will immediately seem to become whatever each of us fear the most… That means that we have a huge advantage on the Boggart before we even begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?”

 

Harry blinks in surprising. Remus gives him an expectant look. 

 

”Well… Ehm… Because there are so many of us, won’t it get confused as to what shape to take?”

 

”Precisely! Have another point for Slytherin”, Remus says and turns to the rest of the class. ”Therefore you should always have company when dealing with a Boggart. It confuses it. Suddenly it doesn’t know which to become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug… In fact, I once saw a Boggart make the mistake of trying to frighten two people at once and turned itself into half a slug — not very scary at all, as you can imagine — The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, but it requires force of mind… As I’m sure your friends in Gryffindor have told you, what really finishes a Boggart off, is _laughter_ … We must force it to assume an amusing shape. Something that makes us _laugh—_ ”

 

”Like Professor Snape wearing a dress?” Seamus pipes up. 

 

Remus’s mouth twitches slightly, ”Yes, like that. Although I hope the Boggart won’t turn into Professor Snape again, or something’s quite awry… In fact, I want you all to take a moment now to think of the thing that you fear the most and then try and come up with a way to alter that thing to make it funny.”

 

Harry feels like someone’s just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. When Ron told him and Seamus about their lesson, he made it sound like the charm itself forced the Boggart into a funny form. Harry hadn’t realised he would have to come up with that himself… Thinking quickly, Harry tries to come up with some way, somehow, to make Lord Voldemort funny, but… Even after meeting the memory Tom Riddle, it’s still the shadowed creature with the burning red eyes that haunts his nightmares… _How can I possibly turn_ that _into something funny?_ he thinks desperately. 

 

”Okay, we’ll practise the charm without wands first”, Remus says. ”Repeat after me… _Riddikulus!_ ”

 

”Riddikulus!” the class choruses. 

 

”Very good”, Remus says and reaches for the rattling wardrobe’s door-handle. ”Now, wands at the ready, everyone….”

 

Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and he quickly shrinks back. Seized by an indescribable fear of having to face even a Boggart version of Voldemort and not be able to deal with it, in front of all his friends and in front of his daddy, he quickly decides to hide behind Crabbe and Goyle and accidentally stumbles into Draco in his haste to get behind them. Draco, it seems, has had the same idea as him. They glare uncomfortably at each other, but don’t say anything. 

 

Remus opens the wardrobe and a terrifying banshee flies out and gets right in Seamus’s face, her skeletal face breaking open in a wide gape from which a wailing shriek erupted… Harry feels the hairs on his arms stand up and shivers… But then Seamus raises his wand and shouts ”Riddikulus!” and with a _crack_ the shriek stops with a rasping gurgle and the banshee clutches her throat indignantly. A few people laugh nervously. The banshee looks around in confusion… _Crack!_ It turns into an enraged Chimera with a swinging dragon’s tail and a massive lion’s head that roars loudly, until Daphne shouts ”Riddikulus!” — _Crack! —_ The Chimera shrinks to the size of a kitten and lets out a pitiful meow, then — _Crack! —_ an Inferi erupts out of the kitten and reaches out to strangle Blaise, who shouts ”Riddikulus!” and — _Crack!_ — the living corpse suddenly finds itself in a pair of rollerblades and waves its arms around like windmills trying to keep its balance, doubling over as the laughter grows all around it — _Crack!_ — a massive snake — _Crack!_ — chasing its own tail and turning into a huge knot — _Crack!_ — a bloody mummy — _Crack!_ — tripping over its own gauze — _Crack!_ — _Crack!_ — _Crack!_ —

 

”Good, good”, Remus shouts. ”It’s getting confused! Keep going, keep going!”

 

Pansy leaps forward and the bouncing eyeball swirls around in the air and suddenly becomes a vicious werewolf who tilts his head back and howls, then lurches forward to attack —

 

”Riddikulus!”

 

Crack! — The werewolf’s teeth fall out of its mouth — Everyone laughs —

 

”G-Good, very good, who’s next?” Remus says.  

 

The toothless werewolf turns into a massive spider with savagely clicking pincers, that — _Crack!_ — suddenly loses its’ legs and rolls around uselessly on the floor, trying to get at the laughing and screaming students who hop out of its way and then suddenly it lands in front of Harry —

 

Harry’s heart stutters to a stop and he stares in horror as the legless spider spins around in the air in front of him… He just has time to make out a pair of scarlet eyes in the growing shadow, when suddenly his daddy leaps forward and positions himself in-between Harry and the Boggart that recoils and turns into glowing white orb —

 

”Riddikulus”, Remus says clearly and the orb turns black drops to the floor and starts scurrying around, but with a bang, Remus sends it flying back into the wardrobe and quickly locks the door again. ”S-Sorry everyone, we seem to have run out of time… But that was great work! Very good, indeed! Have a great weekend, everyone! Harry, can I have a quick word with you?” he adds in an undertone. 

 

Harry nods and waves goodbye to his friends as they hurry out of the staff room, all chatting excitedly about their various Boggarts and how they dealt with them. Harry feels like a large stone drops into his stomach. _I didn’t even get a chance to fail, daddy wouldn’t even let me try…_

 

”Harry, come here…” Remus says and reaches out for him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into his chest. 

 

Harry means to fight against the hug, but his body acts of its own accord and eagerly burrows into the embrace. Remus sighs and his voice shakes a little when he says, ”I’m sorry I stopped you from facing the Boggart. I didn’t think it would be very wise to introduce Lord Voldemort to those who have been fortunate enough not to have made his acquaintance yet…”

 

”Just as well”, Harry mutters and steps back again. ”I couldn’t think of anything funny anyway…”

 

”What do you say we sneak you out of the castle and have dinner with your dad in the new house?”

 

”Really?” Harry says hopefully. 

 

”Now, I want to make it clear that you won’t be able to visit him every weekend, but —”

 

”Okay, that’s fine!” Harry says eagerly. ”Can we go right now?”

 

Remus chuckles, ”All right… Let’s just go get your book-bag from the classroom first, so I can grab my coat from the office.”

 

As they make their way off the school grounds and follow the sloping path down to Hogsmeade, Harry is reminded of their journey up almost a week ago and hearing Remus talk about his childhood and playing a muggle version of Quidditch… Harry felt bad at the time that he hadn’t already known this and now he wonders what else he doesn’t know about his daddy. 

 

”Daddy…”

 

”Yes, Harry?” 

 

”Can you tell me some more about your parents?” 

 

”Well…” Remus says slowly. ”My mother was a muggle and she actually came upon a Boggart in the woods one day — of course she had no idea what it was, all she saw was the large, vicious man the Boggart had turned into and she screamed out in fear — my father heard her and rushed to her aid, and that’s how they met… My father was a world renowned expert on non-human spirituous apparitions, such as boggarts, as it happens… In fact, he once got rid of a Boggart that had fed on the fears of a whole Muggle town to the point where it had become an elephantine black shadow… with glowing white eyes…” 

 

”How did he stop it?” Harry asks breathlessly. 

 

”He trapped it — in a matchbox — anyway, they got married and had me, and then my father was offered a position at the Ministry as part of the [Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Department_for_the_Regulation_and_Control_of_Magical_Creatures); This was in the mid-60s when Lord Voldemort’s powers were growing and his followers started recruiting all manner of Dark creatures to their cause… I never knew any of this at the time, of course. I just thought he went to work in an office while I stayed at home with mum. She was a remarkable woman.”

 

”I wish I could have met her…” Harry says.

 

”Yeah, I do too…” Remus says with a smile. ”I think the two of you would have been like a niffler in a treasure chest… You kind of remind me of her sometimes. Same whimsical sense of humour, same sensitivity…”

 

”You think I’m sensitive?”

 

”I do, and it’s not a bad thing at all. The world could do with a few more sensitive people…”

 

”I remember meeting grandpa Lyall… He didn’t say much, but he kept giving me sweets under the table.”

 

”I knew it”, Remus mutters and Harry giggles. ”Yeah, my father was rather shy and quiet, especially towards the end… But I know he was deeply grateful to have got to know you before he died.”

 

They walk in silence for a moment. Harry glances up at his daddy’s face, wondering if he can risk asking him about his Boggart, but the wistful, almost sad expression on his face makes Harry decide to leave that question for another time. Instead he tries to think of something that will cheer him up, and that’s when it strikes him —

 

”Hey, I just thought of something I could have done to the Boggart!” Harry says excitedly.

 

He’s not sure what made him think of it, but he had suddenly remembered that day he spent at Hogwarts with the Weasleys during Christmas holds in First Year, when the twins bewitched a few snowballs to follow Quirrell around and bounce against the back of his turban — He’d had Voldemort hidden beneath that turban! 

 

”Yeah?” Remus says. ”What is it?”

 

”I’d make him get chased by a bunch of snowballs that keeps whacking him in the face!” Harry says triumphantly and when Remus lets out a bark of surprised laughter he joins in. ”See? That’s funny!”

 

”Where on earth did you get that absurd idea?”

 

”It actually happened once!”

 

”What do you _mean_ —?”

 

”In my first year! The Weasley twins made these snowballs chase after Quirrell and smash him in the back of the head!”

 

”Well, there you have it… You’ll be able to face any Boggart now…” Remus says with a chuckle. 

 

As though he’d been expecting them, Sirius comes out of the front door to greet them and he grins happily when Harry runs into his arms and hugs him. Harry hears the telltale smack of his dads’ kissing over his head, but doesn’t complain, just hugs Sirius a little harder before letting go again. 

 

”So… How was the first week?” Sirius says excitedly. 

 

Harry looks up at Remus who gives him a small smile and strokes his head, before turning back to his husband. 

 

”Eventful…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one other big thing from canon that I've decided to keep as well, regarding Remus, but that's in the next chapter...


	16. Sucky consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for making you guys wait for this update. Real life has been a bit of a struggle for the past few months. Plus I've had to focus on my other writing (you know, that I can actually use in my career, as opposed to this which I only write for pleasure, not profit...) :)
> 
> This is not a very happy chapter, but there's a little moment between our boys in there...

Three weeks into the school year, after a particularly fun and thrilling DADA lesson where they got to study Kappas — water-dwelling creatures that usually live in ponds and try to strangle anyone they come across with their scaly, webbed hands — Remus once again asks Harry to stay behind at the end of the lesson. They wait for the last students to file out of the classroom and then move into the adjoining office. Remus tells Harry to take a seat and then more or less collapses into his own chair. 

 

Harry gingerly perches on the edge of his seat and studies his daddy’s face with a frown… He hadn’t noticed it at all during the lesson, but the man looks ill… His complexion is pale, almost ashen and he’s clearly exhausted…

 

”Daddy, what’s wrong?”

 

”I’m fine, Harry”, Remus says with a tired smile. ”Or I will be, at any rate…”

 

”What do you mean?” Harry says in alarm.

 

”I have a condition… Now, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve had this since I was a little boy and it’s not… It’s nothing to worry about. It’s under control. However, occasionally I get very ill and need bedrest—”

 

”What do you mean you’ve had it since you were a boy? I’ve never even seen you ill _once_ —!”

 

”Your dad and I decided not to tell you before, because we didn’t want you to worry. So instead we told you that I had to travel for work…”

 

Harry’s ears are pounding… _All those mysterious trips_ … His daddy telling him he’d tell him all about them when he got older… _This is it, he’s finally telling me…_ But Harry doesn’t want to know anymore. Not this. He doesn’t want to know this. His dads are never ill, they’re never weak, they always know what to do and Harry doesn’t. want. to. know. any. different —

 

”I will be _fine,_ Harry. I just need to rest for a few days. Professor Snape will be filling in for me and I’ll be back before you know it, I promise —”

 

A sudden knock ont he door interrupts him and with a last worried look at Harry’s face he turns to face the door, calling out ”Come in!”

 

Harry hears the door slide open with a familiar creak and a couple of swift footsteps approach — also familiar — then stop again abruptly. 

 

”Ah, Severus”, Remus says softly. ”Speak of the trolls…” 

 

Harry turns his head and looks up at his Head of House, frowning in confusion at the smoking goblet in the man’s hand. 

 

”Thanks very much”, Remus adds quickly. ”Could you leave it here on the desk for me, please?”

 

Severus narrowed eyes flicker away from Harry and back to his daddy, narrowing even further as an unimpressed frown stretches his face. 

 

”You should drink it immediately”, he says shortly and strides forward, placing the goblet on the desk.

 

”Yes, yes, I will”, Remus says with a polite smile, his gaze flickering over to Harry nervously. 

 

”What is it?” Harry asks. 

 

”I made an entire cauldronful”, Severus says, ignoring him. ”If you need more.”

 

”More of what?” Harry insists. 

 

”It’s for my condition”, Remus says quickly and shoots him a warning look before turning back to smile at Severus. ”Thanks very much, Severus. I should probably take some again tomorrow.”

 

Severus gives him a curt nod and then proceeds to spin on his heal and sweep out of the office again without so much as a look in Harry’s direction. 

 

”It’s nothing to worry about, Harry”, Remus says. ”It’s really very fortunate that Severus is working here. This is a very complex potion and he’s one of very few who can brew it properly and it’s the only potion that helps my condition. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be able to work at Hogwarts…”

 

”What _is_ your condition, though?” Harry asks finally, silently wishing not to find out which is why, when Remus makes a vague excuse and changes the subject, Harry doesn’t press the matter. 

 

 

*

 

 

Harry had known he’d miss Quidditch, but never in a million years would he have guessed how almost painful his longing to fly would become. It’s like the absence of that adrenaline rush, that sense of complete freedom leaves a hole inside him, a gaping, throbbing wound… 

 

Of course, it can have something to do with aching for Draco as well, it’s difficult if not impossible to tell the difference. Most likely it’s a combination of both, though. But if only Harry could take his Nimbus out for a soar, then dealing with his heartache would be so much easier, he’s sure… 

 

On the upside, all his classes are going extremely well now that he has more time to focus on his homework. Even Divination is going all right; All he has to do is make up some predictions about his own death and Professor Trewlawny gives him an O. Of course, then he has to put up with her dramatically telling the rest of the class what a brave young man he is and how losing him too soon like this will be the tragedy of their generation, which is always a little awkward… 

 

But all things considered, Theodore had been right in thinking Divination is an easy O and with Potions and Transfiguration being as hard as they are, and History of Magic as dull… Harry figures he needs Divination and Care of Magical Creatures to balance things out. Although, ever since Draco’s injury, Care of Magical Creatures has gone from easy to dull as well, which kind of sucks but at least it’s another class in which he can be on auto-pilot now… 

 

Draco continues to make sure to keep as much distance between them as physically possible and although it still stings, it gets easier and easier for Harry to ignore the more used to it he becomes… The other Slytherins are slowly getting used to it as well, awkwardly adjusting around the sudden fissure in their previously solid group and making the best of an awkward situation, like the snakes they are… 

 

Harry is happy that most of his friends have stuck around and not decided to take sides or something… Although, admittedly, they kind of have — except _his_ instead of _Draco’s_ — and the blonde might feel less than happy about it… 

 

Harry glances over at the other side of the classroom where Draco and Pansy sit with their heads close together, whispering and snickering… Heart pounding and with a sour surge of jealousy at the back of his throat, Harry quickly looks away again… _He looks happy enough_ , he thinks bitterly, and before he’s even aware of thinking it, he’s making plans to become happy too — _That will show him!_

 

Harry spends the better part of an afternoon devising elaborate strategies for getting over Draco and then as a plan B, in case he can’t get over him, ways of making the other boy believe he has, even if he hasn’t… By the time the sun has set and the green water outside the windows has darkened to a murky black, he’s feeling positively hopeful about the whole plan and it’s with a spring in his step that he jogs to catch up with Blaise and Seamus heading up to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. 

 

The other boys give him weird looks, but instinctively return his grin with wry smiles of their own. 

 

”What’s got your wand shooting sparks?” Seamus asks drily. 

 

”Nothing special”, Harry says with a shrug. ”Just excited about the feast!”

 

Seamus makes a face that says _Fair enough,_ but the eyebrow Blaise raises at him is less gullible. Harry pretends not to notice and looks away under the pretence of admiring the Halloween decorations as they file inside the Great Hall. 

 

Harry is feeling so good about himself that he barely notices anyone else at the table and just starts shovelling his favourite foods onto his plate. 

 

It’s not until Blaise says ”Pans, where’s Draco?” that he looks up from the spread for the first time and notices the blonde’s absence. The excitement of earlier deflates like a burst balloon and plummets to the pit of his stomach. 

 

”He’s not feeling well, the poor thing”, Pansy says airily and flutters her hand in one of her usual vague gestures.

 

”What”, Harry says before he can stop himself.

 

”Did I stutter?” the girl scoffs and shoots him an unimpressed look that makes him want to throttle her, but he takes a deep breath and counts backwards from ten like his dad has taught him. 

 

”What’s wrong with him?” he asks calmly as soon as he’s able. 

 

”What’s it to you”, she counters. ”It’s not like you’re friends anymore…”

 

She might as well has stabbed him in the chest with her fork, it probably would have felt much the same, Harry thinks as he stares down at his overflowing plate and counts mechanically from ten in his head for a second time. 

 

”Hey, that’s not necessary”, Seamus says, standing up for him, but Harry isn’t paying attention any more and doesn’t catch the girl’s reply. 

 

He pushes the untouched plate away from him again. 

 

”Harry —” Blaise begins, but Harry ignores him and stands up abruptly. 

 

”He doesn’t want to talk to you!” Pansy’s shrill voice echoes in the Hall behind him as he turns around and walks out.

 

Harry concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other until he finds himself in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Blinking, he looks around. The room is unsurprisingly deserted. He makes his way to the dormitory, but there’s no sign of Draco anywhere there either. 

 

Heart sinking, Harry walks up to the window next to his four-poster bed and stares out into the murky darkness and tries to think… Where would Draco go? 

 

Truth is, Harry doesn’t know. 

 

Before, when they were still… He swallows thickly past the growing lump in his throat. Before when they were still _talking…_ If Draco was ill or upset, he’d go to _Harry_ … But _now_ … Harry has no idea where he’d go now. 

 

_To Severus maybe?_

 

But the Potions Master is at the feast like everyone else and Harry walked past the doors to his office as well as the Potions classroom and Draco hadn’t been sitting outside either of them waiting for their Head of House to show up. 

 

_Maybe he’s outside?_

 

That’s where Harry would be, he thinks. If he still had his Nimbus and wanted to get away from everyone and everything for a while, he’d go outside and fly around the edges of the Forest to clear his head. 

 

The more Harry thinks about it, the more certain he becomes that that’s where Draco is, maybe not at the edge of the Forest, but somewhere around the Quidditch pitch… His dads — well, his daddy — made him leave the Invisibility Cloak at home at the start of the school year, so he will definitely risk getting caught if he leaves the castle, but… He has to make sure Draco is all right! 

 

Mind made up, Harry turns around and runs out of the dorm again and doesn’t slow down until he’s outside the Common Room and then with both ears open for any sign of Peeves or improbably patrolling prefects, he begins to make his way down the corridor… A sudden noise cutting through the heavy silence makes him come to an abrupt halt and he flattens himself along the wall, holding his breath as he listens… 

 

And there it is again… A soft whimpering, followed by a series of muffled sniffles… 

 

Heart lodged in his throat, Harry follows the now unmistakable sound of someone crying to the boys bathroom at the end of the corridor. The door is left slightly ajar and Harry inches closer to the crack. Someone — _Draco, Draco, Draco_ , his heartbeat chants — is definitely crying in there…

 

Carefully nudging the door open, Harry slips inside. Slowly and quietly, he walks further into the dim room and tracks the noises to the only light source inside the bathroom which turns out to be the glowing tip of the wand clutched in Draco’s hand where he sits in the far corner of the room, hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his white-blonde head in his arms. 

 

”Draco?” 

 

The blonde chokes on a sob and gasps, scrambling to his feet and pointing his wand to the room at large, the weak glow of his _Lumos_ spell flickering as his arm shakes. 

 

”Wh-who’s there?” he says shrilly.

 

”Relax, it’s just me!” Harry says and holds up his hands. ”Just me, Harry…”

 

”What are you doing here?” Draco demands. ”What’s _wrong_ with you? Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want anything to do with you! _Why won’t you just leave me alone?_ ”

 

Ignoring the stab in his chest, Harry reminds himself of what his daddy told him that one time in his office… _It might be easier for Draco to keep his resolve and stay away from you if you’re angry with him, so he pushes you away…_ Taking a deep breath, Harry focuses on the other boy’s face; His eyes are red and swollen, his pale cheeks shine with tears. He looks absolutely wrecked, Harry realises with a stab of sympathy. 

 

”I have been”, he says softly. 

 

The blonde’s face crumbles completely then and his arm falls to his side, the wand pointing at the floor instead and casting a dim orb of light around his feet. A strangled sob shoots out of the his mouth before he slaps his hand over it and turns his back to Harry, who immediately feels his own eyes sting at the sight of the other boy’s shaking shoulders.

 

”If you want me to go, I will…” he says slowly. ”But no-one knows we’re here and… If you want me to stay, no-one needs to find out…”

 

The silence that stretches out between them as they both seem to be holding their breaths is almost deafening. Harry’s heart is halfway out of his chest by the time the blonde finally turns back around to face him. His hair is hanging into his face and for a second Harry is distracted by the realisation how long it’s got, but his grey eyes are clearly visible between the white-blonde strands as he peers over at Harry. 

 

”Why are you so nice to me?” he says in a small voice. ”After… After everything…?”

 

”You know why”, Harry says with an awkward shrug. 

 

”Yeah”, the other boy mumbles and looks away. ”Yeah, don’t say it… Fuck, you make it so hard… Every single day. Why do you have to make it so hard?”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry says with a wry smile. 

 

”No, you’re not”, Draco mutters. 

 

”No, I’m not”, Harry agrees and lets his smile stretch out completely. 

 

Draco gives him a sideways look. He doesn’t smile back, but his face seems to smooth out a little, which Harry counts as a victory, because… Well, _perspective!_  

 

Draco’s gaze quickly flits away again and he takes a deep breath, visibly pulling himself together again. Harry’s fingertips tingle with the urge to reach out and wipe the traces of tears away from his face, but he knows better than to push the other boy, especially when he already feels cornered, or he’ll just end up pushing him away completely. 

 

”I’m all right”, Draco says finally and almost sounds it. ”You can go, it’s fine…”

 

”When’s the last time you ate anything?”

 

”I’m all right”, Draco says again and shoots him a glare. 

 

”I already ate”, Harry lies. ”So I’m just going to go to bed, so… You can go to the feast, I won’t be there and… Yeah… You can eat something.”

 

”What is it with you”, Draco says and throws his hands up in exasperation, the light from his wand following the movement and distorting the shadows between them. ”Why do you have to —?”

 

”Care?” Harry cuts in. 

 

”Meddle!” Draco says fiercely. 

 

”I guess it’s the Gryffindor side of me.”

 

”Wh-what?” Draco says, blinking in surprise. ”What do you mean?”

 

”Remember? The Hat was debating whether to put me in Gryffindor or Slytherin?”

 

He can tell when the memory comes back to Draco, because his eyes widen and then in quick succession there’s a flash of affection followed by hurt inside them. Harry gives him a pinched smile. He won’t say it aloud, it’s enough that Draco remembers, that he’s thinking about it now… 

 

 

_The reason I wanted to be in Slytherin in the first place, when the Sorting Hat asked me_

 

_What’s that?_

 

_You_

 

 

”Right”, Draco says, his voice oddly choked. ”I remember…”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and shrugs again. 

 

”Harry…?”

 

”Yeah, Draco?”

 

”Will you please… Go… Please?”

 

If it wasn’t for the pleading look in Draco’s eyes, Harry would feel quite disheartened. As it is, he gets it… _Don’t push him_ , he reminds himself. _Let him come to you._

 

”Yeah, okay…” he says softly. 

 

With one a final sad smile, he turns around and walks out of the bathroom again. He listens intensely for any sign the other boy starts crying again behind him, but the bathroom remains eerily quiet. He pauses in the door and waits for a second, but nothing happens… _Don’t push_ … With a soft sigh, he gently eases the door shut behind him and makes his way back to the Slytherin common room and even though sleep is the last thing on his mind, he goes to bed early like he’d told Draco he would. 

 

 

*

 

 

The next day, Draco is avoiding him as usual but Harry doesn’t feel as awful about it anymore now that he knows how the other boy really feels, how he _still_ feels about Harry… It doesn’t make it any less frustrating, though… 

 

Not for the first time, Harry finds himself regretting his impulsive decision to help that house-elf, but he immediately feels bad about it and tells himself that he did the right thing and the right thing is always the right thing, no matter how much the consequences suck… 

 

Staring up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, picturing what it would feel like to be flying amongst the clouds crowding inside the space, he sighs… _These consequences couldn’t be any suckier_ , he thinks sullenly and shovels another mouthful of porridge into his mouth. 

 

Glancing up at the Head Table, his heart clenches further when he’s reminded of his daddy’s absence… Thinking back over the course of his childhood and all those trips his daddy took — and there were _a lot_ of them — that he now knows weren’t trips at all, but… _What?_ His daddy was hiding out somewhere, weak with illness, or in pain even? 

 

And he had to go through it all alone, because Sirius had to stay with Harry, and for some reason neither if them wanted him to know the truth… 

 

It breaks Harry’s heart a little to think about it; his daddy who’s always taking care of him, _always, always, always_ , ill and in pain and all on his own, with no-one to take care of _him_ for a change… 

 

 _Well, I know now,_ Harry thinks fervently. _So he won’t have to suffer alone anymore, because I’ll take care of him! After classes today, I’m going to go see him!_

 

His resolve only grows stronger when he walks into the Defence classroom for his last lesson of the day — Double DADA with the Gryffindors — to see Professor Snape standing at the teacher’s desk where his daddy ought to be. 

 

Harry quickly takes a seat next to Seamus on the unofficial Slytherin side of the classroom and digs out his textbook from his book bag and sullenly flicks the pages until he reaches the chapter on Hinkypunks that they’re about to start, only half-listening to Snape when he informs the class that _Professor Lupin is feeling too ill to teach today…_

 

Seamus leans in to whisper something, probably to ask him what’s wrong with his daddy, but Harry shoves his head away before he has a chance to open his mouth. 

 

” _Hey!_ ” the boy hisses and shoves him back. 

 

” _Mister_ Finnigan”, Snape’s long-suffering voice exclaims from the front of the classroom. 

 

”Sorry, Professor”, Seamus says quickly. 

 

”Now, as I was saying”, Snape continues. ”Professor Lupin has left no record of the topics you have covered so far —”

 

”Please, Sir—!” Granger’s voice pipes up from the Gryffindor side of the room and Harry glances over to see her hand twitch eagerly in the air. ”We’ve done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas and Grindylows, and we’re about to start —”

 

”Be quiet”, Snape snaps coldly. ”I was not asking for information, I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s…”

 

He cuts himself off suddenly and takes a quick, deep breath. Harry frowns, sure he saw the man’s dark eyes flicker over to him for a split second. 

 

”Never mind”, Snape says curtly and turns back to the textbook in front of him on top of teacher’s desk. ”Today we shall discuss…” 

 

He starts flicking through the textbook with an air of idleness that seems almost staged, at least to Harry who has studied the Professor quite closely for over two years now, trying to get a sense of the man. He narrows his eyes suspiciously when the Professor now continues to flick the pages of the book until he finally reaches what must be one of the very last chapters. 

 

”…Werewolves!” 

 

”But, Sir”, Granger blurts out. ”We’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start Hinkypunks —”

 

”Miss Granger”, Snape says with a deceptive calm, contradicted only by the flashing fury in his eyes. ”I was under the impression that I was taking this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four. _Now._ ”

 

Harry dutifully starts flicking the pages of his book until he gets to the chapter on werewolves, smirking to himself — _Yep, the very last chapter of the book!_

 

”Which of you can tell me how to distinguish between a werewolf and a true wolf?” Snape asks. 

 

Everyone except for Granger sit in motionless silence, exchanging curious looks. No-one seems surprised to see Granger’s hand high in the air again, least of all Snape who promptly ignores her and turns to the Slytherin side. 

 

”Anyone?” he prompts, his eyes flickering over to Harry’s. ”No?”

 

Harry shakes his head numbly. He could easily glance down at the book and scan the pages for the the answer, and if his daddy was teaching right now he probably would have, but with Professor Snape, that is the best way to earn yourself an acidic insult and Harry doesn’t really feel like being on the receiving end of one of those right now… 

 

”Well, that is disappointing…” Snape says. ”I never thought I’d meet a third-year class incapable of recognising a werewolf if they saw one, Professor Lupin —”

 

He cuts himself off again and pinches his lips together in frustration. Harry narrows his eyes and watches as he takes another deep breath and flicks his gaze down to the textbook once again. 

 

Releasing a half-amused breath, Harry shakes his head a little… _He’s holding back,_ he thinks incredulously. _He’s holding back from insulting my daddy, even though he clearly wants to!_

 

Harry’s feels a weird mix of pique and amusement, and just a hint of affection, because what other reason could Snape possibly have to hold back other than Harry being in the room? He must obviously care enough about him to not want to hurt his feelings, why else would he stop himself from speaking his mind?

 

Smiling wryly to himself, Harry tears his eyes away from the Professor and starts to follow along in the text as the man begins to read out loud. 

 

When the bell finally rings, they’ve covered the whole chapter and Harry has accumulated almost eight inches worth of notes. 

 

”You will each write an essay, to be handed in _to me_ ”, Snape says loudly and clearly over the ruckus of everyone gathering up their things, and then ignoring the collective groan that this homework assignment garners, continues, ”on the ways you recognise werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want it by Monday morning… Class dismissed.”

 

Swallowing a heavy sigh, Harry quickly stuffs his textbook and notes into his bag and drags himself to his feet. 

 

”Harry, you fancy a game of Exploding Snap before dinner?” Seamus says. 

 

”Erm, yeah, maybe later”, he says. ”I’m just going to go see my daddy quickly, okay?”

 

”Oh, okay, catch up with you in the common room then?”

 

”Yeah, yeah”, Harry says. ”I’ll meet you there…”

 

He waits for the last stragglers to file out of the classroom before he hoists his bag onto his shoulder and makes his way up to the front of the classroom. Snape looks up and narrows his eyes at him. 

 

”What is it, Harry?”

 

”Nothing”, Harry says and shifts his feet awkwardly. ”I was just going to…”

 

He gestures towards the door of his daddy’s office, knowing that his sleeping quarters are situated in an adjoining room accessed through the office itself. 

 

There’s a flash of realisation in Potion Master’s dark eyes and he presses his thin lips together. 

 

”I wanted to check on my daddy”, Harry clarifies. ”Just to see that he’s okay…”

 

”He’s not in there”, Snape mutters and looks down, feigning interest in the textbook in front of him.

 

”Wh-what? Where is he? Is he in the Hospital Wing, or—?”

 

”Your father and I are not in the habit of _sharing,_ as a general rule”, Snape says coldly, but Harry is too shocked to hear anyone refer to Remus as _his father —_ which is usually said about James Potter, not one of his dads — to really take offence to the sniping remark and simply blinks. ”However, if I were to hazard an educated _guess,_ I would say he’s chosen to recuperate in his permanent residence…”

 

”P-Permanent—?”

 

”Your _home_. In Hogsmeade. With Black”, Snape says impatiently. 

 

” _Oh…_ He’s with my dad?” Harry says, relief washing over him and making him feel almost light-headed. 

 

”Presumably”, Snape mutters. 

 

Then something comes over him and he looks up slowly, his dark eyes narrowed and calculating and Harry feels an all too familiar impulse to argue his innocence, even though he has no idea what the man could possibly suspect him of, and has to bite his lip to keep from blurting something out. 

 

”You… Know about your father’s condition… Harry?”

 

And for the first time it strikes Harry that Professor Snape _does_ know about his daddy’s condition, he must do if he’s been brewing that potion for him! 

 

Heart thudding excitedly in his chest, Harry schools his face in a neutral mask and nods. Snape’s eyes narrow further. 

 

”Y-yeah, of course”, Harry says brazenly, but he can tell immediately that Snape has seen right through him. 

 

”Go work on your essay, Potter”, Snape says with an exasperated eye-roll and gives him a dismissive flick of his hand before turning his attention back to the textbook and obviously ignoring him. 

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mutters and trundles out of the classroom, feeling disappointed.

 

As he reaches the first floor, Harry slows down and eyes the big oak doors. What he wouldn’t give to be able to go for a ride on his Nimbus right now… Even in this horrible autumn weather, it would give him just the boost he needs right now. Sighing, he turns towards the small corridor leading towards the stairs to the dungeons instead. 

 

”Hey Harry—!”

 

Looking up in surprise, Harry stops and turns back around to see the identical grinning faces of Fred and George Weasley as the older boys come bounding up to him. 

 

”Hey guys… How have you been?”

 

”Oh couldn’t be better”, Fred or George say with a cheeky grin. 

 

”Now that you’re off the Slytherin team Wood has finally relaxed a little”, his twin adds with a wink. 

 

”Great…” Harry says sarcastically. ”I’m so happy for you!”

 

The twins snicker good-naturedly and one of them gives his shoulder a playful shove. 

 

”What’s got your wand in a knot?” 

 

”Nothing…” Harry mutters. ”I just miss Quidditch, I guess…”

 

”Bet you’re glad you won’t have to play in this weather though?”

 

”He wouldn’t have to anyway”, the other twin interjects. ”Didn’t you hear? We’re not playing Slytherin tomorrow, they switched with Hufflepuff… Apparently their Seeker is still recovering from his arm injury!” he rolls his eyes and then gives Harry another wink. 

 

”Oh come off it”, the other Gryffindor says. ”There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm! Right, Harry?”

 

”I eh… Wouldn’t know”, Harry says shrewdly. ”I don’t really hang out with the team all that much anymore, I guess I miss flying more than anything… It always used to help clear my head, you know?”

 

”So go fly, what’s stopping you?” the winking twin says earnestly. ”You’re not banned from flying, are you?”

 

”Well, kind of… My dads made me promise not to go sneaking out of the castle anymore and they made me leave my — Ehm — Yeah, anyway”, he trails off awkwardly, realising he probably shouldn’t start a rumour about owning an Invisibility Cloak, but judging by the knowing looks on the two older boys’ faces, he has a sneaking suspicion that their younger brother has already told them all about it. 

 

”What if you knew you wouldn’t get caught?” one of the twins says in a hushed voice. 

 

Harry frowns, looking between the two of them… Their blue eyes glitter excitedly back at him. 

 

”Well, then, I guess… I guess I’d sneak out for a bit…”

 

He is immediately met with a pair of identical, almost maniacal grins and barely refrains from backing away. The two twins exchange a look, then one of them nods and they turn back to Harry again. 

 

”Come on… We might be able to help you out…” 

 

”Help me out?” Harry mutters uncertainly and lets the two boys grab each of his arms and steer him into the shadows next to the marble staircase. ”H-How?”

 

”Well…” one of the boys says slyly. ”We won’t be able to make you invisible, but… This will at least give you a fighting chance…”

 

With a flourish he produces a square bit of faded old parchment from inside his robes. Harry stares at it dumbly. 

 

”Er…”

 

”This, Harry, is the secret of our success!”

 

”It’s a wrench giving it to you, but… We think your needs are greater than ours at this point, besides—”

 

”—We know it off by heart by now, anyway! So it’s all yours…”

 

”And…” Harry peers up at the older boys’ curiously, weighing his words carefully as he half-expects this to be another one of the twins pranks. ”What exactly do I want with — Ehm — With _it_?”

 

The twins smirk knowingly at him. 

 

”Well, if used right, this little baby will show you how best to get around in this castle—”

 

”—and on the castle grounds—”

 

”—and it will also give you fair warning should a professor or a prefect—”

 

”—or even Peeves be close by!”

 

Harry blinks a couple of times, waiting for the punchline, but it doesn’t come. 

 

” _What_?”

 

”You see, Harry… When we were in first year, you know, young, carefree and innocent—”

 

Harry snorts.

 

”— _Well,_ more innocent than we are now, at least—”

 

”—We got into a spot of bother with Filch—”

 

”—We’d let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—”

 

”—So he hauled us into his office and was making his usual threats, you know—”

 

”—Detention, disembowelment—”

 

”—And that’s when we noticed a drawer in his filing cabinet marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous, so of course, being the curious lads that we are—”

 

”—We decided to investigate! So George let off another Dungbomb to distract him and I whipped open the drawer and grabbed the first thing I got my hands on—”

 

”— _This_! We don’t reckon Filch ever figured out how to work it, but we think he suspected what it was or he wouldn’t have confiscated it in the first place…”

 

”Wait…” Harry says, feeling a jolt of excitement. ”How to _work it_? But what _is_ it?”

 

Smirking, the twin that Harry now knows to be Fred brandishes his wand and gives the parchment a gentle tap, and says, ” _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…_ ”

 

Harry gasps in excitement as ink black lines suddenly sprout out from beneath the wand tip like an intricate cobweb. 

 

”It’s… _It’s a map_!” he says. 

 

”Not just any old map… Check it out…”

 

George starts to unfold the parchment, revealing inch upon inch of the detailed map of Hogwarts. Harry catches a glimpse of a square entitled ”The Great Hall” before the older boy unfolds another section and points to three little black dots… Harry squints his eyes and stares more closely at the dots — they all have little labels that read —

 

”Wait a minute… Is that…?”

 

”Us”, the twins say in unison. 

 

Harry whips his head up and stares at them in amazement. The manic grins are back on their faces and they exchange an amused look with each other. 

 

”This map shows every person on the school grounds, wherever they go…”

 

”This is brilliant!” Harry gushes. ”But why would you give it to _me_?”

 

”Well, you did save our sister’s life”, Fred says off-handedly, but by the way the two boys look away awkwardly, Harry gets the feeling that they’re trying not to show what feelings that particular memory actually brings up and Harry politely lets it go. 

 

He’d almost forgotten about Ginny. He hasn’t really seen her around much this year, as opposed to last year when she seemed to pop up all over the place… Of course her brothers wouldn’t be so quick to forget the fact that he saved her from the Chamber of Secrets though… 

 

”Okay, well, just let me know when you want it back, I guess”, he says. 

 

”Nah, you keep it”, George says. ”Like I said, we know it by heart by this point, so… We bequeath it to you! Just remember to wipe it when you’re done—”

 

”—Just tap it again and say _Mischief Managed_ , and it’ll go blank again!”

 

Then clapping him on each of his shoulders, both boys give him a wink and stride off into the Entrance Hall and disappearing up the marble staircase. 

 

Harry quickly finds the Entrance Hall on the map and follows the two dots labelled _Fred Weasley_ and _George Weasley_ as they ascend the stairs and he chuckles to himself. This is amazing!

 

He folds the map up again and notice for the first time the writing at the very top of the map; _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present THE MARAUDER’S MAP_

 

_Wait —_

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest as he stares at the swirly words… _Moony…_

 

”It can’t be…” he mumbles. 

 

But yes, that’s what the map says… _Moony_ … 

 

 _But that’s_ , Harry thinks numbly. _That’s dad’s pet name for… He always calls daddy that… Could this map have belonged to his dads when they were at Hogwarts? Could they have made this amazing map?_

 

Heart pounding in his chest, Harry quickly fumbles with his wand and gives the map a tap and mutters, ” _Mischief managed_ —!”

 

He watches in a sort of detached fascination as all the intricate little lines fade away from the parchment again, and then gently fold the whole thing up and puts it inside his robes pocket. He’ll ask his daddy about it when he sees him, when he’s feeling better… Except… _I’d have to tell him about the map if I want to ask him about it, which would be the same as handing it in to a Professor_ … He hardly thinks the Weasley twins would be too happy about that. 

 

 _No, I’ll think of something,_ he thinks decisively as he starts to make his way towards the dungeons. _I’ll just ask him about the pet name, I don’t have to mention the map at all, I’ll just ask him why dad calls him that and see what he says…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, I promise, Draco will come around! 
> 
> It will also be the last chapter set in third year, so if you have ANY sort of requests for the boys' third year/PoA, this is your last chance!  
> xoxo


	17. Truths and cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! <3
> 
> EDIT: made some small alterations!

When Harry and his friends make their way up to the ground floor on Saturday morning and the magnitude of the storm outside becomes clear to them, Harry is happy for his quidditch ban for the first time. Not only is the wind howling and shaking the window panes around the Entrance Hall, but fat drops of rain whip against the glass and in the distance they hear the low grumbling of approaching thunder. 

 

The Slytherin quidditch team looks particularly smug when Harry joins them at the table in the Great Hall, Marcus Flint shooting malicious looks over at Wood at the next table and receiving murderous glares back. Draco is the only player who seems disinterested in the whole affair. Which is rather typical when he’s the reason behind the controversy, Harry thinks fondly and hides a smile behind a piece of toast. 

 

As the Hufflepuff team enter the Great Hall and take their seats at the table at the far end of the hall, Daphne and Pansy suddenly start squirming in their seats, trying to get a better look and then erupt in a random peal of shrill giggles. Harry frowns, wondering when these two developed an interest in quidditch… Looking over at the hufflepuff table, he immediately spots a new player.

 

”Cedric Diggory”, Flint says with grin. ”Hufflepuff’s new team captain and Seeker… Look at Wood’s face, just look at it—!”

 

”He’s dreamy”, Daphne mutters and then starts giggling with Pansy again. 

 

”Who, Wood?” Flint says incredulously. 

 

”No, Diggory!” Pansy squeals. 

 

Harry catches Draco glance over at the hufflepuff fifth-year as well and then immediately begin blush. 

 

”What’s so dreamy about him”, Harry scoffs, pretending not to notice Draco’s blush intensifying in his peripheral. ”He looks rather ordinary to me!”

 

”Who cares”, Flint says. ”He’s a great Seeker. Gryffindor is going to get _slaughtered_ —!”

 

”You won’t be so happy about his skills when _we_ have to play them”, Pucey mutters. 

 

”We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it”, Flint says, but his grin quickly shrinks away and he sends Harry a glare. 

 

Ducking his head, Harry pretends not to notice and concentrates on finishing his breakfast and by the time he does, the blanket of clouds in the enchanted ceiling is almost black and flashing with sporadic bolts of lightening. 

 

It’s really a testament to the game’s popularity when the whole school make their way across the lawn towards the quidditch pitch to watch despite the weather. Harry almost considers staying inside and study the Marauder’s map some more instead, but figures it wouldn’t be much fun with everyone but Filch and Mrs Norris out of the castle anyway… And he really is excited to see the game. Despite his earlier words about the new Hufflepuff captain, he’s curious to see just how good of a Seeker he is and he always enjoys watches the Weasley twins play, their twin senses making them eerily in sync with each other in a way that Harry’s never seen with two other players, not even professional ones. 

 

When he takes a seat in the Slytherin part of the stands however, it becomes clear that he won’t be able to see much of the game at all… His rickety umbrella is no match for the heavy rain that now seems to be coming from all direction thanks to the wind and splashes over his glasses no matter how he positions his head or shields them with his hand and when the players walk out onto the pitch all he can see are red  blurry dots on one side and yellow on the other — and they’re not even flying yet! — with an annoyed huff, he sits back and glares unseeingly at the blur of movement that is the game. 

 

Gryffindor is the lead with fifty points when one of the yellow blurs suddenly shoots across the pitch like a crazed canary and within seconds the game is over; Cedric Diggory has caught the Snitch and Hufflepuff wins the game. 

 

There is an awkward bumping of umbrellas as everyone gets up to make their way down from the stands and back to the castle again. Harry remains seated for a moment, waiting for the others to go ahead, not wanting to accidentally take someone’s eye out… 

 

”Harry, you coming?” Seamus shouts over the storm. 

 

Next to him, Draco instinctively looks over his shoulder and Harry’s stomach flips over as he finds himself in the crossfire of those familiar grey eyes — silver now as another flash of lightening erupts around them — the other boy’s hair is a darker shade of blonde and plastered to his face, and tendrils of rain water are trailing down the sides of his face, making him glow… The moment only lasts for a second at most, but Harry is still getting his breathing back under control when he joins Seamus on the stairs and Draco has disappeared into the gloom below. 

 

 _It can’t be normal_ , Harry thinks as he lies awake in bed later that night and the image keeps flickering back into his mind’s eye, making him fluttery and frustrated in equal measures. _It can’t be normal to be this easily affected by another person_ … And not by anything they’ve done either, but just the _sight_ of them, just knowing that they’re sleeping in a bed on the other side of the room… Harry turns over and readjusts his pillow under his head, trying to find a position that will help him fall asleep, but apparently his mind has other ideas… Conjuring up silver eyes glittering in the dim light from the green lantern next to his bed… Dark blonde tendrils of wet hair that’s suddenly dry when Harry imagines combing his fingers through it… A flutter of eyelashes… Shallow breaths hitting his top lip in small gusts of tickling warmth as the other boy’s face floats closer and closer… 

 

The fluttery warmth in Harry’s belly trickles down and pools in his sternum and he rolls over on his stomach and groans into his pillow. 

 

”For fuck’s sake, Harry”, Seamus sleep-gravelly voice mutters from the bed next to his. ”Go to sleep already…”

 

”Shut up, Seamus”, Harry grouses. 

 

He pulls the pillow out from under his head and puts it on top of it instead, muffling some of the churning of the waves outside the window and whatever expletive his friend fires back at him. 

 

He finally drifts off to sleep, only to dream about rain-wet kisses in thunderstorms and long, slender fingers gripping him through damp robes… Like _uncomfortably_ damp robes… And when he wakes up again in the morning, he realises why… He fumbles blindly for his wand on the nightstand outside the bed hangings and tries to clean up the damp stain on his pyjama bottoms where they’re sticking to his front. He only learned the _Tergeo_ charm a few lessons ago, so it takes him a couple of tries before he gets it right. 

 

At breakfast Hedwig comes swooping down to land on his shoulder and he beams at her, taking a moment to pet her head and feed her a piece of bacon before untying the note on her leg. He immediately recognises his daddy’s swirly handwriting and perks up further. 

 

 

_Harry,_

 

_Just wanted to drop you a line to say I’m feeling much better and_

_intend to return to the castle this afternoon, but seeing as it is a_

_Hogsmeade weekend, your dad and I thought you might want to_

_come by the house and have lunch with us?_

 

_Love,_

_Remus_

 

 

Looking up to share the good news with his friends, Harry accidentally locks eyes with Draco who immediately startles and looks down with a blush, but that doesn’t diminish Harry’s exhilaration at all, if anything it enhances it — _Draco was looking at me!_ And _he’s eating breakfast!_ — Harry grins and turns to Seamus. 

 

”Hey, my daddy is better”, he tells him. 

 

”Awesome! So he’ll be back to teaching tomorrow?”

 

”Yeah, I think so!”

 

When it’s time to go to Hogsmeade, Harry is one of the first students to queue up in front of Filch, more or less bouncing on his feet in excitement, much to Seamus and Blaise’s amusement. The three of them make the trek together, stopping by Honeydukes and Zonko’s before Harry waves goodbye to them outside the Three Broomsticks and makes his way to the other side of the small town. 

 

When the thatched roof of the now familiar little white house comes into view at the end of the winding road, Harry breaks out into a run. 

 

As if sensing his approaching presence, Sirius and Remus steps out of the front door to great him inside the small gate and Harry launches himself at Remus first and hugs him tightly. He realises too late that his daddy might still be in pain and quickly looses his grip again and stammers out an apology, but Remus just pulls him back in and tightens the embrace even further before burying his nose in his favourite spot on Harry’s neck to inhale deeply. Harry smiles happily. 

 

He feels Sirius fingers card through his hair and reluctantly lets go of his daddy so that he can give his other dad a hug as well, then finally he bends down to scoop Selina into his arms after one particularly insistent head bump to his shin. 

 

”Come on, we made your favourite…” Remus says and leads the way back inside the house. 

 

”How are you feeling, daddy?” Harry asks apprehensively as they take their seats around the kitchen table. ”I was going to visit you, but Professor Snape told me you weren’t at the school…”

 

If Remus feels bad for keeping this information from Harry he doesn’t show it and he doesn’t apologise either, just smiles. Before Harry can prod him any more, Sirius smoothly changes the subject and asks him about school. Harry shrugs and lists off his subjects and how he’s doing, explaining about Divination and Care of Magical Creatures being definite Os. 

 

Remus is frowning by the time he’s finished describing his new tactic for getting through a Divination lesson and giving them both an example of a particularly gruesome death that he came up with recently, but Sirius just snickers and shakes his head. 

 

”Oh, what?” he tells his husband. ”It’s just Divination, it’s all hokum anyway!”

 

Remus refrains from retorting, but the frown stays etched on his face until Harry changes the subject and tells him the class can’t wait to have him back and that they’re less than impressed with Snape filling in for him. 

 

”Hah!” Sirius mutters almost triumphantly. 

 

”Professor Snape is a very good teacher”, Remus says and shoots his husband a stern look. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry agrees. ”Not as good as you at DADA though, and also he gave us a really hard homework assignment and people were not happy about that…”

 

”He set you an essay?” Remus says in surprise. 

 

”Yeah, two rolls”, Harry says and shakes his head. ”I haven’t even started mine yet, it’s going to take me all night…”

 

”Harry”, Sirius says, giving him an affronted look. ”Your daddy will be back at work tomorrow, you don’t need to write the essay!”

 

Harry glances over at Remus uncertainly. The other man looks decidedly torn, obviously not too keen on going against something another teacher has said. 

 

”Was the essay on Hinkypunks…?”

 

”No, that’s the thing!” Harry says with a grin. ”That’s the other reason people were so miffed, because he completely disregarded your syllabus even though Granger kept trying to tell him what we’d already covered and that we were _meant_ to start on Hinkypunks, but he wouldn’t hear _any_ of it—!”

 

”Git”, Sirius mutters, but is ignored by both his son and husband, who frowns at Harry instead. 

 

”No? What did you cover instead?”

 

”Get this”, Harry says eagerly, stifling a snicker. ”He went straight to the _last chapter_! We spent the whole lesson talking about _werewolves_ —!”

 

A sudden crash makes both Harry and Remus jump. They swiftly turn their heads to see Sirius wave his hand around with a muffled curse, blood and water dripping onto the table where the shards of the broken water glass lie glinting. Remus quickly whips his wand out and cleans up the mess before gently cradling his husband’s hand in his to tend to the wound. Sirius mutters something apologetically, but Remus just gives him a dismissive head shake. 

 

”I’ll talk to Severus, Harry”, he says without taking his eyes from the closing wound in Sirius hand. ”You don’t have to write that essay. Tell your friends too.”

 

”All right…” he mumbles, looking between his dads uncertainly. 

 

He’s still going to write the essay, he knows. The gryffindors might get away with disregarding Snape’s instructions with another teacher backing them up, but there’s no way the Potion Master will let his own slytherins get off that easily. But it’s okay, Harry figures. He’s got plenty of notes and with his handwriting getting worse and worse by the day, he’ll have no problem filling two rolls… 

 

After lunch, Harry spends a moment in his room just going through his things and soaking in the atmosphere. Selina joins him on the bed and they curl up together for a cuddle, until Remus appears in the open door with a gentle knock on the doorframe. 

 

”Time to go, pup…” he says with a smile. 

 

Harry nods and carefully removes the sleeping cat from his chest and puts her down on top of his pillow instead. 

 

”I’ll wait for you in the hall”, Remus says. 

 

”Be right there…”

 

Harry takes one last look at his things and is just about to leave when he catches sight of his Nimbus 2000 propped up against the side of the wardrobe. Glancing at the doorway quickly, he hops off the bed and walks over to it. Breath held, he picks it up and gingerly drags his fingers over the polished wood… The sense memory immediately kicks in and makes his stomach swoop… With another glance to the doorway, he shrinks the broom and sticks it into his waistband next to his wand and then hides them both under his jumper. 

 

He and Remus make their way to the castle together, meeting up with Harry’s friends on the way and they proceed to complain about the essay Snape set them, but when Remus tells them not to write it, they quickly glance at Harry and he can tell he won’t be the only slytherin to hand in that essay after all… 

 

He’s sitting hunched over it in front of the fireplace in the common room later that evening, halfway through the introduction when he comes across a passage in the textbook that states: _”Another term lycanthrope, often used to describe werewolves, however, refers to someone who suffers from a mental disease of fantasising being a wolf. This particular mental disorder is termed lycanthropy.”_

 

”What…” Harry mutters. 

 

_”The correct term for the Dark condition in which a person involuntarily turns into a fearsome and deadly near-wolf at the full moon, should therefore be described as werewolfry…”_

 

Huffing out an annoyed sigh, Harry reaches for his wand and starts correcting his essay, replacing the word _’lycanthropy’_ with _’werewolfry’_ while grumbling to himself the whole time. _I’ve never even heard of_ werewolfry _before, it sounds ridiculous…_

 

He has just finished correcting and finishing up the introduction and is about to start listing off the usual tell tale signs of _werewolfry_ when his mind begins to wander… He catches himself fantasising about using his new magical map to sneak out and take his Nimbus for a spin instead of finishing the essay, and that’s when he remembers that he completely forgot to ask his dads about daddy’s nickname… _Never mind_ , he thinks. _I’ll ask daddy about it tomorrow…_  

 

Glancing at the clock, Harry groans. It’s already past midnight, and he’s still got most of the essay left to write… _Okay, focus_ , he tells himself sternly and scans his notes… _How to recognise a werewolf… Let’s see, let’s see…_

 

He decides to divide his essay into two parts, one focusing on distinguishing the transformed werewolf from a regular wolf and one focusing on recognising the signs that a person is a werewolf, which is a lot easier to explain in writing so he starts with that… _Well, first of all_ , he thinks, glancing at his notes — full moon _, oh yeah, obviously_ — _they transform once a month, so that’s an obvious sign…_

 

It shouldn’t take too long for the people in the werewolf’s life to notice that pattern, he figures… _Which is why it’s hard for them to stay in one place for too long or keep a job, I know I’ve read that somewhere,_ he thinks and flicks through the pages of his textbook, scanning the words distractedly… 

 

 _”…They appear as normal humans, although they tend to age prematurely, most notably a greying of their human hair at a relatively young age, due to the difficult transformations or other traumas suffered in connection with it. They will also gain a pallor as the full moon approaches and then wanes, and often experience general exhaustion and ill health in the days preceding and succeeding the full moon”_ , Harry skims through the text, skipping for now the parts about what the werewolf is like while transformed.

 

 _”…This alone makes it difficult for a werewolf to live a normal life and keep regular working hours”_ , he reads and quickly grabs his quill to begin to write again… _Premature ageing… Getting ill before and after the full moon —_

 

Harry stops and stares at the words he’s just written, unaware of the ink blot growing out of the tip of the paused quill and slowly consuming the _n_ in _full moon_ …

 

_”…They will also gain a pallor as the full moon approaches…”_

 

_”…General exhaustion and ill health…”_

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks numbly, shaking his head. _No, no, no, that’s just… Coincidence… Impossible…_

 

A growing pressure on his chest makes it harder and harder to breathe and he lets the quill flutter out of his hand and brings his hands up to rub his face — _I’m just tired, I’m not thinking clearly, there’s just no way_ — He sucks in a shaky breath, releasing it again in a whoosh. 

 

He’s almost convinced himself that the whole idea is just bizarre, when a very unbidden memory suddenly floats to the forefront of his mind… Their first DADA lesson of the year; the Boggart landing right in front of him and quickly swirling into a dark mass, a shadowed figure with red eyes, and all Harry could do was stare at it in fear, when suddenly his daddy jumped in front of him and the Boggart instantly reshaped itself again… It had taken the form of a glowing white orb… Harry hadn’t understood it at the time and he’d meant to ask his daddy about it afterwards but he never did… _Glowing white orb… The full moon…_

 

It’s like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle slides into place before his eyes, except he doesn’t want it there. But the picture is there now, glaringly clear in front of his face and there is no way to unsee it.  Suddenly it all makes sense. His daddy’s _condition_ as both his dads has described it, getting ill on a regular basis…

 

Harry’s mind flashes to his daddy’s pale skin and the dark circles around the eyes; his greying hair next to dad’s black locks when the two embrace each other; the thin scars on his neck and arms that Harry always assumed were relics of some dangerous career he had before they got Harry… But thinking about it now, it makes more sense for them be from self-inflicted wounds… _Scratch wounds… Claws…_

 

Feeling nauseous, Harry buries his head in his arms and concentrates on taking deep breaths… _In… Out… In… Out…_

 

 _Merlin, why did it have to be_ this _? Any other condition would be better, literally_ any other _!_

 

Harry remembers his daddy telling him he’s had his condition since he was a boy and feels a stab of pain thinking about all those months, all the transformations, how scared he must have been, how lonely… Collecting himself, Harry reaches for the textbook again in determination and continues reading:

 

_”…Although the biggest challenge for the werewolf is of course dealing with the extreme stigma surrounding werewolfry… Werewolves are generally regarded with fear and disgust by wizarding society and people seem to think even when in human form, the werewolf may pose a danger. It is not uncommon for people known to be werewolves to be shunned by society and discriminated against… Because of the difficulty in finding a job and having to resign and move on before their colleagues start to suspect them, most werewolves live in poverty… Few have married and had children—”_

 

The words finally become too blurry for Harry to make out and he slams the book shut again, sniffling pitifully as he wipes his sleeve over his eyes… _It’s not fair,_ he thinks miserably. _His daddy is the kindest person he knows, it’s just_ not fair…

 

Finally deciding that he can’t stomach any more, Harry gathers up his things and heads for the dorm and curls up in his bed but it’s a long time before manages to fall into a fitful slumber and when he wakes up again a few hours later, he feels like he hasn’t slept at all. 

 

Even though Harry had seen his daddy only the day before and his appearance had hardly altered since then, Harry is still struck by how loosely the man’s robes are hanging off his frame and how dark the shadows under his eyes are when he walks into the Defence classroom and has to fight a bizarre but strong impulse to turn back around and run away. 

 

”Wow, he really looks like he’s been ill…” he hears a Gryffindor whisper and slams down his book-bag on the desk a little harder than necessary, causing several students to startle and give him odd looks. 

 

The majority of the class, mainly the gryffindors, immediately burst into a chorus of complaints about Snape’s behaviour while filling in as DADA teacher and setting them such a difficult homework assignment, but Remus smiles gently and gestures for silence. 

 

”Don’t worry. I have already spoken to Professor Snape. You don’t need to do the essay. All right?”

 

There’s a murmur of relief and appreciation amongst the students and Remus smile grows. 

 

”Good… Now, I believe we were about to get started on Hinkypunks…”

 

He flicks his wand and a glass box containing what first appears to be a small cloud, or a wisp of smoke comes floating out of his office and lands on top of the teacher’s desk. On closer inspection, they can make out a pair of pale yellow eyes, a spindly leg and a frail-looking hand clutching a small lantern. 

 

”Hinkypunks like to lure travellers into bogs”, Remus says. ”They hop ahead of them in the mist and the traveller will follow the light from the lantern, you see—?”

 

The rest of the lesson continues in the same fashion and everyone is excited to go up to the glass box and study Hinkypunk more closely, but Harry is hardly even aware of anything that goes on around him, taking notes on auto-pilot and not raising his hand a single time… As the bell rings, Remus asks him to stay behind and for the first time ever, Harry wishes he would just let him be… He doesn’t know what to think about everything he’s just found out, let alone what to say… 

 

Remus approaches him and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, then ducks his head and peers into his face with a worried frown. Harry instinctively looks down, unable to meet his daddy’s eyes. 

 

”Anything the matter, Harry?”

 

”No…” Harry lies. ”I’m just tired. Didn’t get much sleep.”

 

”Okay…” 

 

The hand on his shoulder squeezes him briefly before falling away. Despite everything, Harry finds himself immediately missing the warmth. 

 

”Did you… Did you write the essay after all…?”

 

Harry debates with himself for a second, but in the end he decides to lie again and just shakes his head. 

 

”Okay…” Remus says again. ”Well… I’m here if you want to talk… About anything, okay?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry mutters. ”I know… I should go, I’m going to be late for Charms…”

 

He lets himself be hugged briefly, but quickly pulls away again and avoids his daddy’s probing gaze as he turns away and walks out of the classroom in a hurry. 

 

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Both Seamus and Blaise attempts to involve him in their conversation a couple of times and he tries to join in and act like normal, but something in his face must betray him because they eventually leave him alone. But even then, Harry feels claustrophobic… His own thoughts are tormenting him and he just wants to be alone and _just breathe_ , but everywhere he turns he bumps into someone. 

 

Finally, as everyone is getting ready for bed, he makes up his mind… He waits until he thinks the others are all asleep, then grabs his wand. 

 

” _Lumos…_ ” he whispers and then digs out the Marauder’s map and unfolds it on the bed in front of him. ” _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…_ ”

 

Grabbing his Nimbus from the hiding place under the fourposter bed, Harry puts on his boots and sneaks out of the dorm. Stopping at every corner to check the map to make sure the coast is clear and narrowingly dodging a run-in with The Bloody Baron, he slowly makes his way out of the dungeons and out into the cold night air.

 

He gently folds the map together and puts it in his inside pocket, then mounts his broom and kicks off. He zooms off towards the Forbidden Forest, pulling the broom into a sudden dive only to pull up again inches from the ground, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as he speeds up and turns around in a loop. 

 

After only a few minutes in the air, he already feels better… He’s still shaken up about everything, but for the first time in what feels like forever he doesn’t feel like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He keeps flying along the edge of the forest for about an hour and a half, judging by the movement of the waning gibbous moon over the night sky, before he decides to head back to the dorm. He lands smoothly on the lawn and moves stealthily towards the castle through the darkness, not daring to light his wand until he’s inside. 

 

Sliding the oak door open just a crack, Harry slithers inside as quietly and carefully as he can manage and is just about to unfold the Marauder’s map when the muffled but unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps reaches him. 

 

Frozen on the spot as though petrified, Harry stares at the closed door in front of him… For the longest second of his life he considers wrenching it open again and making a run for it, but before he can get his hands and feet to work, the footsteps come to an abrupt stop behind him and his heart freezes in his chest as he waits with bated breath…

 

”Harry Potter…”

 

The chill in his Head of House’s voice sends a shiver over Harry. He squeezes his eyes shut and sends a silent prayer to whatever powers might be at work in the Universe that the Potion Master will keep him alive long enough for Harry to come up with an explanation… Swallowing thickly, he turns around. 

 

Professor Snape’s face is almost entirely concealed in shadows, but there is no mistaking the trembling tension in the man’s shoulders and balled fists hanging at his sides. 

 

”S-Sir…” Harry mumbles. ”I was just…”

 

”I don’t want to hear it”, Snape snaps furiously. ”Come with me.”

 

The walk back to the dungeons is tense to say the least. Harry steals several glances at the professor’s face, but not once does the older man return the eye contact or acknowledge his presence at all, until they reach the door to his office when he tears open the door and impatiently gestures for Harry to enter first. 

 

”Sit down”, he says coldly as he strides past him and twirl around to face him from the other side of the desk. ”What’s that in your hand?”

 

Harry pauses with his butt an inch from the seat and glances between the broom in his right hand and the Marauder’s map in his left, feeling an almost detached spike of panic somewhere underneath the haze that seems to have enveloped him. 

 

”M-My broom…” he mumbles uncertainly. 

 

Snape narrows his eyes into tiny, unimpressed slits and Harry gulps. But before he can come up with anything else to say, the Potions Master has lunged forward and in one swift movement nipped the map from Harry’s fingers. 

 

”What is it?” he asks roughly after a thorough investigation of the parchment reveals nothing but stains and creases. 

 

”S- Spare bit of p-parchment”, Harry says in a small voice. 

 

”Indeed”, Snape murmurs. 

 

He turns swiftly towards the fireplace and without thinking about what he’s doing, Harry shoots to his feet and shouts ”NO—!”

 

Snape shoots him a withering glare, but doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t throw the map into the flames as Harry thought he would either, but instead reaches for the floo powder and tosses a handful onto the glowing embers, causing big, green flames to immediately roar to life. 

 

” _Lupin!_ ” he bellows at them. ”My office!”

 

As soon as he’s finished speaking, a large, revolving shape appears inside the flames and in the next moment, Harry daddy steps out of the fireplace looking particularly grim with soot on his face and ash stains on his robes. 

 

He takes one look at Harry and the Nimbus clutched in his hand and his whole face shutters. 

 

”I also confiscated this”, Snape says quietly and holds up the blank map. 

 

”What is it?” Remus asks, glancing at the parchment with a frown.

 

”I’m not sure yet…” Snape says and taps the map with his wand. ”Reveal your secrets…”

 

Nothing happens. 

 

Remus turns back to Harry. 

 

”Harry…”

 

” _Show yourself!_ ” Snape tells the map angrily with another jab of his wand.

 

”Daddy, I… I just…”

 

” _Professor Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!…_ What the…”

 

Remus tears his eyes away from Harry again and looks over at the map again. To Harry’s horror, swirly writing has appeared on the parchment now, but it doesn’t look like it usually does… Harry cranes his neck and tries to get a better look… The old parchment crinkles in Snape’s trembling grip before he thrusts the whole thing into Remus’s hands and whirls around to pin Harry with a furious look. 

 

”What…?” Harry says breathlessly. ”Wh-what did it say…?”

 

”Both of you out of my office”, Snape snarls. ” _Now_!”

 

”What—?”

 

”Come on, Harry”, Remus says and clamps a hand down on his shoulder and steers him towards the door. 

 

As soon as the door shuts with a click behind them again, Remus tightens his grip on Harry’s shoulder and bends down to fix him with a stern look. 

 

”I don’t know how you got a hold of this map Harry, but you’re not having it back.” 

 

He straightens up again just as abruptly and lets go of Harry’s shoulder so quickly that Harry staggers a little. Then taking a deep breath to calm himself, Remus adds, ”Well, at least it will be easier to keep track of you from now on…”

 

Harry frowns. How did his daddy know that the parchment was a map? 

 

Heart thudding nervously in his chest, he licks his lips and finally asks the question that’s been nagging at him ever since he read the text at the top of the map. 

 

”Daddy… Did you…? Is that you?” he points to the map. ”It says Moony… Are you one of the Marauders?”

 

Several emotions flicker past the older man’s face as he stares down at Harry. Finally he heaves a great sigh and looks away. 

 

”Come on, let’s go talk in my office…”

 

As soon as they’re inside the DADA office, Remus sinks down heavily in the seat behind his desk. 

 

”Sit down, Harry…” he says quietly. 

 

Harry quickly drops down to the edge of the chair opposite and waits with bated breath as his daddy composes himself and then finally begins to speak… Just as Harry had suspected, _Moony_ had been his daddy’s nickname when he was in school and — Remus considers Harry’s face carefully for a moment as he weighs his words — tells him that he and his three best friends started calling themselves The Marauders, and the map was one of many extracurricular things they accomplished during their time at Hogwarts… 

 

”And… And dad…?” Harry asks quietly. 

 

”Your dad was Padfoot”, Remus says with a small smile. ”James was Prongs…”

 

Harry frowns. _These nicknames are weird…_

 

”And…” Remus adds with another heavy sigh. ”Wormtail was… A boy named Peter… Peter Pettigrew.”

 

”What happened to him?” Harry asks cautiously. ”You and dad’s never mentioned him…”

 

”No, we… We’re no longer friends”, Remus says evasively and looks away. ”Look, Harry… All of this — The Marauders — It was all just… Childish stuff, really… Don’t get me wrong, we had some good times together, like any teenagers, but we did break our fair share of school rules. Well, your dad and James did, anyway… But I probably should have made more of an effort to stop them, to be honest. I’m not proud of… Some of the things we did back then…”

 

Harry frowns and squirms uncomfortably in his seat… _He makes it sound like they did awful things_ , he thinks. _Like they were criminals or something… But they were just kids… How bad could it be?_

 

”Your dad on the other hand”, Remus mutters. ”Well, I think he feels differently — He’s always been a bit of a rebel —”

 

Harry smiles despite himself and Remus returns it wryly. 

 

”—But I don’t want you to think that that makes it okay for you to disregard the rules and what we tell you, Harry.”

 

”I don’t…” Harry mumbles and looks down, ashamed. 

 

”Your track record begs to differ.”

 

”I’m sorry…”

 

Remus nods, but doesn’t say anything else. They sit in silence for a while and Harry starts to feel really awful about the whole thing, but finally his daddy takes pity on him and, standing up again he moves around the desk to envelop Harry in one of his tight hugs and Harry gratefully burrows his face into the soft material of his jumper.  

 

Remus stays true to his word and confiscates the Marauder’s map from Harry, but he’s allowed to keep his Nimbus when he promises to only go flying in daylight from now on and not break curfew or any more school rules again. Harry eagerly agrees to the conditions, barely able to believe his luck and hugs his daddy again. 

 

”I’ll write you a note, in case you run in to Filch or Filius on your way back to the dungeons”, Remus says and starts looking through the mess on his desk for a spare bit of parchment. 

 

”Flitwick?” Harry says in confusion. 

 

”Professor Flitwick”, Remus clarifies. ”He’s on patrol duty tonight.”

 

”But, I thought… Snape…”

 

”Professor Snape wasn’t patrolling”, Remus says as he scribbles a short message on a piece of parchment. ”He was looking for you.”

 

”What? Why?”

 

”Because I asked him to…” Remus gives him a pinched smile. ”I wanted to make sure you were all right, so I asked Snape to check in on you… When he found your bed to be empty, we split up and started searching the castle for you. I was in a classroom on the fifth floor when the fireplace roared to life.”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry mumbles again. 

 

Remus nods and hands him the note. 

 

”Good night, Harry…”

 

 

*

 

 

At the end of the school term, Harry joins his friends in one of the horseless carriages down to Hogsmeade and then waves goodbye to them as they make their way into the train station to board the Hogwarts Express to London, before making his way to the little white house at the outskirts of town. 

 

Sirius meets him at the gate as usual and they hug tightly, Harry curiously craning his neck to get a glimpse of Remus over his dad’s shoulder, but the doorway remains empty. 

 

”Where’s daddy?” he asks, pulling away from the other man’s embrace again. ”Is he not here yet? I didn’t see him at breakfast, so I thought he’d left early…”

 

”Let’s go inside, Harry…” Sirius says softly and clamps a hand down on his shoulder. 

 

”Where is he?” Harry asks again, looking around the hall and kitchen worriedly. ”He isn’t here yet?”

 

”No, he’s… He’s not going to be celebrating Christmas with us this year, Harry—” Sirius says. 

 

Harry whirls around and stares at his dad in alarm, ”What—!”

 

”Calm down, runt…”

 

”What do you mean _he’s not celebrating Christmas with us_?”

 

”Harry…”

 

”No! Where is he? _I want to see him right now!_ ”

 

”You can’t see him”, Sirius says and sinks down at the kitchen table with a sigh. ”Not right now. He’s… He’s ill—”

 

”Ill?” Harry echoes, his heart thudding faster and faster in his chest as his thoughts race through his head, _It’s the full moon… I can’t believe I forgot to check the lunar calendar!_

 

”But _where is he_?” he demands. ”He should be here, with us! I don’t care that he’s — that he’s _ill_ — I just want him home! He should be at home, with us!”

 

”I know…” Sirius murmurs. ”I know, runt… But it’s just not possible right now. Your daddy — He’ll — He’ll explain everything to you when—”

 

” _Don’t_ say when I’m older!” Harry snarls. 

 

”When he’s _better_ ”, Sirius counters calmly. 

 

Harry feels his eyes sting and quickly spins around and runs into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He throws himself on his bed and curls up with his face pressed into his pillow, muffling his sniffles and waiting for his dad to come find him… Except he doesn’t. He lets Harry be, and Harry should be grateful for that, but he isn’t. _Daddy would never leave me alone when I’m upset, no matter how much I begged him to, or — or — or how much I yelled at him or —_

 

Harry chokes down another sob and punches the mattress next to his head. 

 

It’s not the first Christmas Harry has spent alone with his dad, but it’s the first time since he learned the truth about his daddy’s so-called business trips and it’s quite a different feeling to be sitting in front of the tree in the lounge thinking his daddy is off travelling, to thinking he’s ill and hurting and scared and lonely somewhere… 

 

He doesn’t know how his dads manage to be together when his daddy’s transforming, maybe that mysterious potion that Professor Snape brews for him helps somehow, all he knows is that they have found a way, so his daddy doesn’t actually _have to_ go through his transformation alone. The only reason he is right now — on Christmas, no less — is because of Harry, and that makes him feel awful.

 

Sirius tip-toes around him the whole evening and it makes him feel even worse. Finally, as they finish their rice pudding on Christmas Day morning and move into the lounge to open presents, Harry swallows down a lump in his throat and says ”I don’t want to do this…” 

 

Sirius looks crestfallen and Harry quickly looks down to keep his resolve.

 

”Do you want to save the presents for when Remus gets back?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles. ”But I also want to go back to Hogwarts. Now.”

 

”Harry —!”

 

”I’ve made up my mind”, Harry insists. ”I want to go to Hogwarts. That way daddy can come home and be with you…”

 

A strangled grunt is all the warning Harry gets before he’s roughly pulled into a massive hug and lifted off his feet. He struggles against it half-heartedly for a couple of seconds, but quickly caves and buries his face in his dad’s neck. 

 

In the end, Harry decides to stay home for the remainder of the weekend after all, when Sirius tells him Remus will be home the next day regardless so it won’t change anything if Harry goes back to the castle now anyway. 

 

They do leave the presents unopened under the tree, though. 

 

Harry barely gets a wink of sleep that night, tossing and turning, thinking about his daddy all alone somewhere… _At Hogwarts?… No, he can’t be at the castle, can he?… But where else can he be?…_ And as he drifts in and out of a fitful, half-doze, he is haunted by images of a lonely and frustrated wolf bumping between the trees of the Forbidden Forest, clawing at itself and howling at the full moon… 

 

He startles awake when something brushes the side of his face and immediately scrambles up to sit with his back against the headboard, fumbling blindly for his glasses on the nightstand as his dad’s low voice hushes him and rumbles at him to _calm down_. The warm hand finds its way back to Harry’s head and Harry instinctively relaxes at the familiar feel of fingers carding through his hair. 

 

”It’s still early, you can go back to sleep, I just wanted to let you know I’m going out for a bit…”

 

”What, why? Where?” Harry says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before putting his glasses on. 

 

”I’m just going to go pick your daddy up”, Sirius says. ”There’s breakfast on the table in case you wake up before we get back, okay?”

 

”I’m awake now”, Harry says. ”Can’t I come with you? Please?”

 

Sirius seems to hesitate for a second so Harry says _please_ again, but only gets smile and a pat on his cheek in return.

 

”Get some more sleep.”

 

”I’m not even tired!”

 

”Then go have breakfast”, Sirius counters and stands up. ”I’ll be back with your daddy in twenty minutes, half an hour tops.”

 

It’s the longest half hour of Harry’s life. He takes one look at the breakfast spread under the stasis charm on the kitchen table and quickly decides to wait for his dads to get back before he eats anything. He does pour himself a cup of coffee though, just so he can feel a little less like death on legs and more like a person who’s slept at _some_ point in their life… Cradling the warm mug in both hands, he starts pacing the floor of the small but cosy kitchen, glancing out the window every other minute to scan the sky for an approaching motorcycle, but the sky remains stubbornly white and empty.

 

Forty minutes into his wait, Harry glares at the big clock mounted on the wall above the doorway as if Time herself was to be blamed for his dads’ lateness, then walks right up to the kitchen counter and leans over the sink to get a really good look out the window, but still no sign of a motorcycle either in the sky or the road leading into town. 

 

A sudden _crack_ in the hallway makes him jump and he splashes cold coffee over his hands as he wheels around and hurries across the kitchen. 

 

He stops in the doorway and stares as Sirius quickly pockets his wand in order to grab Remus’s hand where it lies limp over his shoulder, then readjusts his hold around the man’s thin waist and gently manoeuvres them both around and continues to support the other man’s weight against his side as they slowly make their way into lounge. 

 

Harry follows them and watches anxiously from the doorway as Sirius lowers his husband onto the sofa, where the other man slumps back against cushions with a weary sigh. 

 

Sirius leans down and places a soft kiss on the weak man’s lips and receives a small smile in return, then Remus gaze flickers over to Harry behind Sirius shoulder and his smile grows a little wider. 

 

”Harry, come here…” he says. 

 

Harry wants nothing more than to run and throw himself at his daddy, but he forces himself to walk slowly and calmly across the room. When he reaches the sofa, Remus grabs his hand and guides him to sit down next to him and Harry eagerly cuddles into his side. He can feel the man’s chapped lips brush his forehead in a gentle butterfly kiss before his nose dips into his hair and inhales his scent… _How have I not reflected over_ that _before?_ Harry thinks to himself and cuddles a little closer but careful not to hug his daddy too tightly. 

 

”I see a lot of unopened presents…” Remus murmurs, still nuzzling Harry’s face.

 

”Oh yeah… We completely forgot about those…” Sirius says lightly, gently prying the empty coffee cup from Harry’s hand before he takes a seat on the sofa on the other side of him.

 

Before long, Harry starts to drift off where he’s snuggled into his daddy’s embrace and only half-listening to his dads whispered conversation. 

 

”… _It’s time, Moony_ …”

 

”… _I know, I know that, but… Just not today_ …”

 

”… _He knows something’s up already and it’s only going to get worse the longer we wait to tell him…_ ”

 

”… _I_ will _talk to him, but can I please just have today with him… It’s Christmas—_ ”

 

”— _No,_ yesterday _was Christmas, and I had to try and explain to Harry why his daddy wasn’t here to celebrate with him_ —!”

 

”… _Please, Sirius…_ ”

 

”… _He’s going to ask you when he wakes up, and I think it’s time you give him an honest answer, that’s all I’m saying_ …”

 

But when Harry is gently shaken him awake and told it’s time to eat something, he doesn’t ask his dads anything because, like Remus, Harry just wants today to be normal. He just wants to forget about everything else going on in his life, his daddy being a werewolf and Draco being forced to stay away from him, all of it, and just enjoy a nice, lazy afternoon with his family… 

 

He accidentally overhears his dads whispering about it again as he’s packing up all his stuff before heading back to Hogwarts.  

 

_”—Let’s just do it now and get it over with—”_

 

_”—No, I want to wait until I’m feeling better—”_

 

_”—You’re stalling. If we do it now, we can do it together. If you wait—”_

 

 _”—I know, I know, but I’m not ready!_ Please, _Sirius…”_

 

Harry pretends not to have heard anything when he joins them out in the hallway, just returns their smiles like everything is peachy.

 

”Have you got everything?” Remus says and he nods. ”I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.”

 

He loops an arm around Harry’s neck and pulls him in for a quick nuzzle and peck on the forehead, before shuffling aside so that Sirius can get his goodbye hug as well. 

 

”Bye, pup”, he grumbles. ”See you soon…”

 

 

*

 

The spring term passes by in a sort haze. The Flobberworms they’ve spent most of the year tending in Care of Magical Creatures overdose on lettuce and die, finally forcing Hagrid to come up with another creature for them to study, but his heart really isn’t in it at all. Harry overhears Pansy telling Daphne that Lucius Malfoy’s complaint about the Hippogriff attack has been forwarded to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and that there will be an official hearing in the spring. Harry feels a little bad for the creature, considering Draco did provoke it, but he isn’t that concerned about it. _It could be a lot worse,_ he thinks as he gives the gamekeeper a sidelong glance. Hagrid could easily have lost his job, but obviously he didn’t. 

 

In Divination they begin to learn about palmistry and Professor Trelawny proceeds to inform Harry, loudly enough for the whole class to hear, that he has the shortest life line she has ever seen. 

 

”Yeah, that makes sense”, he says sombrely, playing along, to keep those Os coming. 

 

Professor Trelawny clutches her chest as she fixes her misty, magnified eyes on his. 

 

”Such courage… Oh, my dear boy, what a shame, what a loss… Five points to Slytherin!”

 

Harry looks over at Draco and catches him scowling at the professor and gives him a quick wink when he glances over. The blonde continues to scowl as he hurriedly looks back down at Pansy’s palm, but there’s a distinct hint of pink in his cheeks. 

 

The tension between himself and Draco remains unchanged, but Harry does catch the blonde staring a lot more lately which he is happy to store away under ’Progress’ and it makes it just a little bit easier to remain patient about the whole situation. Just a little bit. 

 

Harry spends most of his time hanging out with Seamus and Blaise, but Theodore has taken to join them more and more as Crabbe and Goyle’s maturity level and vocabulary seems to regress rather than the opposite. He’s also on friendly terms with the rest of the quidditch team, except for Flint who still seems to think Harry got himself banned from quidditch on purpose… And every so often he runs into the Weasley twins and catches up with them, but he hasn’t seen much of Ron since term started. The twins tell him their brother is in mourning over his rat Scabbers who apparently lost its life under very dramatic circumstances… Harry wouldn’t laugh at a story like this normally, but the way the twins recap what happened is just hilarious and by the end of it, Harry is clutching his side and wiping tears from his eyes. 

 

”The cat has had it in for Scabbers since the beginning of the year, or so Ron claims anyway!”

 

”Well, yeah — it’s a cat!” Harry says, still chuckling. 

 

”I reckon Ron’s onto something, though. That cat is way too smart—”

 

”—Think it might be a half-Kneazle?” the other twin suggests. 

 

”Well, tell Ron I send my condolences”, Harry says and gives the gryffindors a parting wave. 

 

”Will do, Harry—!”

 

”—And thanks again for winning us the Quidditch Cup—!”

 

Defence Against the Dark Arts continues to be Harry’s and most of his friends favourite subject, his daddy always managing to make the lessons fun and exciting, whether or not he’s managed to find a living specimen of what they’re studying. 

 

Seamus jokingly asks him one day if he plans to invite a couple of vampires and werewolf to class towards the end of the year and Harry watches his daddy’s face extra closely when he smiles in reply, but the joke genuinely doesn’t appear to have unsettled him at all. 

 

Harry keeps expecting him to ask him to stay behind after class and have the Talk with him, getting more and more anxious with every passing DADA lesson, but it never happens. If anything, his daddy almost seems to be avoiding his eyes and Harry remembers the whispered arguments he overheard between his dads during the holiday… 

 

Finally the Easter holidays rolls around, but piles upon piles of homework to do on top of revisions for the end-of-year exams, Harry barely gets a moment to relax at all and even has to decline his dads’ invitation to Easter Lunch. 

 

When they return to Divination after the holiday, they discover several crystal balls waiting for them. 

 

”The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb”, says Professor Trelawny as she sits back in her high-backed armchair in front of the fire and sweeps her insect-like eyes over the class with a air of great importance. ”That is why I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little sooner than I’d originally intended, in order for you hto get sufficient practise… Everyone place yourself at one of the Orbs provided—”

 

She gestures vaguely with a fluttery movement of her tinkling hand and they all take their usual seats around the small, incense-heavy classroom. 

 

”Now, I don’t want you to worry if you do not See at your first try — crystal-gazing is a very fine and complex art, and it requires a lot of concentration, which is why we shall begin with a few relaxation exercises to clear your Inner Eyes…”

 

Harry glances around at his fellow classmates and barely refrains from sniggering. If they were any more relaxed, they’d be sleeping… Hunching over the table, Harry pretends to stare into the crystal ball in front of him, but lets his gaze travel past the orb to a certain blonde sitting on the other side if the classroom, trying to follow Trelawny’s instructions but only getting more and more tense… Harry smirks, wondering if Draco is even _capable_ of genuinely relaxing…

 

Eyelids drooping, Harry starts to drift off… But he’s roughly roused again when Theodore gives him a sudden kick under the table. 

 

”Ow! What—?” Harry jerks upright and sends the other boy a glare, but quickly schools his face into what he hopes looks like a relaxed one as he becomes aware of Trelawny towering over him. 

 

”Well, dear…” she says dreamily. ”What did you see?”

 

”Er…” 

 

”Don’t be shy.”

 

”I saw… Ehm… Draco”, Harry says, then immediatly curses himself. 

 

A hush falls over the classroom and all eyes turn to peer over at him in varying degrees of interest.Harry swallows thickly, avoiding looking over at where the blonde in question is sitting with Pansy and Daphne. 

 

”I’m sorry?” Trelawny says.

 

”Draco”, Harry repeats with a blush, pointing in ahead without looking up from the crystal ball, pulse pattering nervously as he tries to come up with a way to twist this into one of Trelawny’s favoured tragedies. ”And ehm… He was flying…”

 

”Flying?” She repeats, sounding unimpressed.

 

”Yes, but then… Then he fell off his broom, because… Because he got hit with a bludger”, Harry finished lamely. 

 

”And then what happened?” Trelawny asks, interest piqued once more. 

 

”Nothing. That’s all I saw.”

 

”Are you quite sure?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says firmly. 

 

”Very well, that’s… That’s a good first try, dear…” Trelawny sighs and pats him on the shoulder before sashaying away. 

 

Harry finally risks glancing up at Draco, who just blinks and looks away again.

 

 

*

 

 

As Harry lies awake in his bed, he keeps replaying the memories of his dads arguments in his mind and tries to put himself in his daddy’s place, tries to imagine what it must feel like… To carry around a secret that big, that dangerous, that life-altering… 

 

 _It’s time, Moony_ … _He knows something’s up already and it’s only going to get worse the longer we wait to tell him…_

 

 _I know, I know, but I’m not ready…_ Please, _Sirius…_

 

He thinks back on what the textbooks said about werewolves, and about the stigma and the discrimination, about lives lived in poverty and solitude, pain and secrecy, an uprooted existence, a life half-lived… 

 

 _It’s time, Moony_ …

 

_I know, but I’m not ready…_

 

Harry tries to swallow down a growing lump in his throat as he thinks of his daddy’s kind eyes when he comforts him, his strong arms when he hugs him to his chest, his calm words of wisdom and reason when the world is seemingly falling apart around them and how he always puts everyone else first, and knows exactly what to say or do to make everything just a little bit better… The lump in Harry’s throat just keeps growing and growing… _It’s just not fair_ , Harry thinks. _My daddy is not a monster!_

 

And that’s when it hits him, _really_ hits him for the first time… _That’s_ what his daddy is afraid of, _that’s_ why he’s stalling… Because he doesn’t want Harry to see him as a monster!

 

Harry shoots out of bed and stumbles out of the dorm in his haste to get to his daddy and tell him he knows everything already and _he doesn’t care,_ because he can’t stand the thought of his daddy suffering through a worry like that for even a single minute longer than absolutely necessary!

 

He moves as quickly and quietly as possible through the corridor and as soon as he reaches the spiral stairs leading up from the dungeons he starts running, but stumbles almost immediately and nearly goes flying back down again. Swearing silently to himself, he kicks off his slippers and starts up the stairs again and as soon as he reaches the top landing he begins running for real, thudding to a stop only when he reaches the bottom of the marble staircase… Suddenly he hears voices and approaching footsteps and he wheels around in panic, scanning the Entrance Hall… It’s coming from outside, he realises and just as the thought has occurred to him, he can see the door handle begin to turn. 

 

Without thinking, Harry quickly whirls back around and takes the marble stairs three at a time until he reaches the bend of the stairs and can crouch down behind the railing.

 

”—that in your hand?” Sirius gruff voice grouses from below, and Harry’s heart skips a beat. ” _Is that the Wolfsbane—?_ ” 

 

”—What of it?” Professor Snape’s icy voice hisses back. 

 

 _What’s dad doing here?_ Harry thinks in a panic as his heart starts hammering in his chest and a layer of cold sweat breaks out over his skin. _If I’m caught now, I’m dead…_

 

”You didn’t give it to him yet—?” 

 

”—I do have other things to do, Black!”

 

Holding his breath, Harry slowly starts to crawl up the remaining stairs, careful to stay hidden from view as his dad and Head of House continues to bicker behind him. 

 

” _Don’t you dare speak to me that way, Snivellus!_ ”

 

”I will speak however I please—!”

 

Finally reaching the top landing, Harry stays doubled over and begins to sprint blindly down the corridor, vaguely aware of Snape’s voice behind him, What was that, I think just heard something…

 

Harry rounds the corner and his feet slide out from underneath him, but he manages to catch himself on his hands and push himself upright again almost immediately. 

 

”This way, hurry—!” Snape snarls from the staircase behind him. 

 

Harry sucks in a quick breath and bolts down the corridor. He crashes into the door of the Defence classroom — _please, please, please be open_ — and twists the doorknob; the door flies open as he yanks on it and almost knocks him in the face before he throws himself inside, looking around in panic — _hiding place, hiding place, need a hiding place_ — 

 

That’s when he sees it. 

 

The door to his daddy’s office is left wide open. There’s a soft light spilling out of the room, but no sounds can be heard from inside. 

 

With his heart lodged in his throat, Harry walks up to the door and sticks his head inside. The room is empty. Harry looks over at the door he knows leads to his daddy’s sleeping quarters. That door is closed. Hesitating for only a second, Harry decides to walk over and open it. But that room is also empty.

 

”D-Daddy?” he calls out anyway, but there is no answer. 

 

The bed is still made and definitely hasn’t been slept in. Everything is neatly stored away, every book in its place on the shelves and every item of clothing hidden away in the wardrobe. Turning back to face the office, Harry notices the same thing there. Clean and tidy. Everything in its place. Except for one thing… Harry cautiously walks up to the small desk, where a lantern is left burning… And in the soft light spilling out of it, lies the Marauder’s map. Harry frowns, what was his daddy looking for and what made him leave his office in such a hurry that he forgot to wipe the map? 

 

He quickly turns the map around and scans it. His daddy had been looking at the ground level of the castle, with the deserted Great Hall and Entrance Hall side by side… And outside the castle he can see the lawn and the lake, Hagrid’s hut with Hagrid and his bloodhound Fang inside it, the Hippogriff Buckbeak tethered outside… The Forbidden Forest… The quidditch pitch and the Whomping Willow… 

 

A sudden movement in his peripheral makes Harry gasp and he quickly moves the lantern closer… _There,_ a black dot moving across the grounds, _Remus Lupin_ … Harry frowns. Where is his daddy going? 

 

And that’s when he sees the second dot… Peter Pettigrew —

 

Bowled over by a sudden onslaught of memories of flying glass and angry words, his dads arguing over a picture in the Prophet, a picture of the Weasley family and — and _Ron’s rat Scabbers_ , Harry remembers with a jolt — and it’s like the final pieces of a jigsaw puzzle magically scuttles into place… 

 

_The rat — look at it! — It’s him!_

 

_Your dad and I once knew a person who was an animagus and could turn into a rat_

 

And later, sitting in his daddy’s office, staring at his tired, wary face as the shadows of the past flickered in his eyes, _Wormtail was a boy named Peter, Peter Pettigrew… We’re no longer friends —_

 

Harry can only stare disbelief at the two little dots on the map now, one obviously chasing the other, and he barely even register the footsteps and the voices of his dad and Head of House when they come storming inside the office. 

 

” _Harry!_ What the Hell do you think you’re—?” Sirius barks, but then cuts himself off suddenly. 

 

When Harry looks up, his dad is staring at the map looking whiter than Harry has ever seen him before in his life. 

 

”Where did you get that…? What—?” but he cuts himself off again, and when he swears loudly and furiously, Harry knows he’s spotted Pettigrew’s name on the map. 

 

”Harry, stay with Snape!” he barks as he shoves the Potion Master aside roughly and bolts out of the room. 

 

Snape releases a series of hushed but heartfelt expletives as some of the smoking potion he carries spills over the back of his hand, and throws a thunderous look at the now empty doorway. Harry stares numbly between the doorway and the smoking goblet… _Wolfsbane… Daddy’s potion… Oh Merlin, it’s the full moon, that’s why dad’s here, it’s the full moon, daddy is about to transform and he hasn’t had Snape’s potion yet —_

 

Horror-struck, Harry stumbles away from the desk. Snape’s eyes narrow suspiciously and he twitches with what might have been an impulse to catch Harry who for a second seemed to have lost his balance, but he quickly gets his feet back under him and before Snape has had a chance to react, he launches himself forward and grabs the potion out of his hand and hurtles out of the office. 

 

” _Harry—_! POTTER, GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!”

 

But Harry ignores him and continues to run, the Wolfsbane potion burning the palm of his hand as he keeps it on top of the goblet like a lid to keep it from spilling. After only a moment, he can hear Snape’s running footsteps chasing after him, but he doesn’t turn around to look. 

 

Snape runs a lot faster than him and soon catches up, but Harry’s Seeker instincts are quicker and he darts away every time the professor tries to grab him. 

 

As they reach the marble staircase leading down to the Entrance Hall, Snape finally falls behind since Harry is too scared for both his dads to care about his own safety and more or less hurls himself down the steps. He skids across the floor and out the wide open oak doors, looking around in panic as he tries to listen for any sounds, anything —

 

”POTTER! _Stop_ —!”

 

Snape has caught up to him again. Harry resumes the chase, running almost blindly in the near darkness towards the quidditch pitch where his daddy and Pettigrew had been when he watched them on the map… _Must get the potion to daddy_ , he thinks hysterically… 

 

Finally, he hears something —

 

”P-p-p-please Remus, S-S-Sirius, _my friends_ …”

 

Harry runs towards the sound of the squeaky voice without missing a beat, ignoring the stitch in his side and the weight on his chest… _Must get the potion to daddy, must get it to him, must get it to_ —

 

Harry comes to a thundering stop, as three dark figures suddenly take shape in the gloom in front of him… The two taller ones tower over the one with the squeaky voice, pointing their wands at him.

 

”P-p-please don’t hurt me…”

 

”Shut up!” Sirius snarls. ”You pathetic little worm! I’ll never forgive myself for trusting you, for convincing James to trust you — should have known you were a spy from the start —”

 

”S-s-spy, _m-me?_ Never!”

 

With a strangled snarl, Sirius steps right up to the smaller man and pressing his wand into the side of his neck, he forces him to his knees… As Harry’s vision starts to adjust to the gloom, the man’s pudgy face starts to come into focus. His eyes are small but terrified as he stares up at Sirius and his whole face is shining with sweat, and possibly also tears…

 

”You always did like big friends who looked out for you”, Sirius continues. ”At first it was me and Remus… And James… They only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it”, Sirius snarls, his voice getting thicker and thicker with suppressed emotion. 

 

Harry is vaguely aware of Professor Snape coming to thudding stop right behind him, quietly panting as he tries to catch his breath. 

 

”Thought it’d be the perfect bluff”, Sirius continues. ”Voldemort was sure to come after me — No-one would suspect James and Lily to trust one so pathetic and insignificant as you with their safety, _with their lives —”_

 

” _No, please, I’m sorry—!_ ” the small man squeals in terror and curls up into a trembling heap at Sirius feet. 

 

”Sirius…” Remus says quietly, speaking up for the first time since Harry found them. ”It’s not worth it. Think of Harry. Let’s just take him up to the castle and alert the authorit—”

 

But before he can finish the sentence, the thick blanket of clouds suddenly begin to disperse above their heads and white-blue moonlight showers the three men and the effect on Remus is instantaneous… Harry stares in horror as his daddy’s whole begins to tremble and convulse… Sirius doesn’t appear to have noticed yet, still focused on the trembling heap of a man at his feet and in the light of the full moon Harry can now make out the murderous, almost manic look in his dad’s face… 

 

The wand falls from Remus hand and he seems to cave in on himself and twitch in pain. 

 

” _Daddy!_ ” Harry screams. 

 

Someone — _Snape,_ Harry’s mind reminds him — grabs him roughly by the arms and hushes him furiously. 

 

Sirius wheels around with an incredulous scowl and opens his mouth to bark something either at Harry or the Potions Master, but he immediately stops himself as he sees the goblet clutched in both of Harry’s hands. His face drains of colour and he whirls around to face his husband in horror. 

 

” _Remus!_ ” he yelps. ”No, no, no, no — Look at me, look at me!”

 

”Potter”, Snape hisses and keeps pulling on his arms. ”We’ve got to get out of here!”

 

”No—!”

 

”Potter, _now_ —!”

 

”It’s all right! It’s okay!” Sirius says desperately, dropping his wand to the ground so that he can wrap both arms around his now violently convulsing husband and tries to catch his darkening, bloodshot eyes. ”Stay with me, _stay with me!_ Remus, look at me! This heart is who you truly are, _this heart_ —!”

 

With a sudden spasmodic movement, Remus throws Sirius off and the man flies several feet into the air before landing hard on his back on the ground. Snape swears under his breath and roughly shoves Harry behind him, standing like a human shield between him and the now half-transformed werewolf as he drops to the ground and begins to thrash around in pain… 

 

Harry stares in mute disbelief as his daddy’s human limbs shrink and his face contorts into a snout and gets covered with a thick coat of grey fur… Without seconds, what looks almost exactly like a regular wolf crawls out of the confines of the shabby robes, its tufted tail thrashing and teeth bared as it tilts its head back and howls up at the moon…

 

Sirius is slowly but steadily advancing on the werewolf again. Harry’s heart is beating madly and adrenaline is pumping through him as he tries to clamber out from behind Snape and get to his dad, but the Potions Master is stronger and manages to hold him back. 

 

”Dad!” Harry screams. ”DAD!”

 

”Snape, get Harry out of here!” Sirius bellows before he too transforms — into a big, black dog!

 

”What…” Harry mumbles in shock. 

 

”Let’s go, let’s go —” Snape snaps and tries to physically propel Harry around, but he slithers away and continues to struggle against his Head of House until the man finally grabs him by the arms and bends down to stare into his eyes. ” _Harry!_ They’re both fine! _Listen to me!_ Werewolves are only dangerous to humans when they haven’t drunk Wolfsbane, do you understand? Your dad will be fine, and your daddy too, as long as we get _you_ out of harm’s way _right now!_ ”

 

Harry can only stare back, horror-struck as the man’s words finally sink in. He nods numbly and then lets himself be pushed and pulled all the way across the grounds and only once they are in the safety of the castle does Snape let go of him. Harry stumbles and trips over, and when he tries to get back up he almost can’t get his legs to support him, he’s shaking so badly. 

 

Snape lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs him again, except gentler this time. Harry clutches the sleeve of his robe and leans into him until he’s sure his legs will carry him. 

 

”Are you all right?” the man asks him gruffly. 

 

”I… I don’t know…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Let’s just get you to bed.”

 

Snape walks him to the Common Room and then gives him one last worried look as they pause outside the door to the dormitory. 

 

”Don’t worry”, he mutters and his mouth contorts into a grimace that doesn’t look anything like a smile. ”You’ll see that, in the morning, everything will be… It will be… _Fine._ ”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry whispers. 

 

”Well, good night then… Harry…”

 

”Good night, Sir…”

 

Snape opens the door to the dormitory carefully and holds it up for Harry who shuffles inside. He pauses in the middle of the room and looks over at his fourposter bed. He can hear the door slide shut again behind him and looks around. 

 

Then before he’s even aware of moving, his feet has carried him over to Draco’s bed. He pulls the hangings aside and reaches down the shake the boy awake. 

 

Draco startles and scrambles up to sitting, staring up at Harry with bleary eyes. 

 

”H-Harry? What—?”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry blurts out in a small voice. ”But I… I need t-to t-talk to you…”

 

Draco frowns and begins to shake his head and if Harry’s heart wasn’t already shattered in a million pieces it would break, but as it is he can’t possibly feel any worse.

 

” _Please_ , Draco”, he says. ”I know you want me to leave you alone, you need time, space, whatever, and _I’m sorry_ , I am, but I… I didn’t have anyone else to go to and I really… I really need to _talk_ —”

 

He cuts himself off with a shuddered gasp and swallows down a small sob.

 

”Why?” Draco demands worriedly. ”What’s wrong?”

 

”Not here…” Harry mumbles self-consciously, glancing over at Goyle in the next bed as the large boy lets out another snore and rolls over. ”Common room…”

 

Draco quickly scrambles out of bed and slips his bathrobe on on top of his pyjamas. They make their way out of the dorm together and Harry leads them over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He hugs his knees to his chest and watches as Draco brings the embers back to life before he takes a seat next to him. 

 

”Tell me what happened…”

 

Harry swallows thickly as he tries to think — _Where do I even start?_ — but finally he just opens his mouth and lets it all tumble out, all of it… He tells Draco about doing the essay on werewolves and putting the pieces together, that his daddy never told him and still hasn’t told him, but Harry figured it out and tonight… Harry just shakes his head as tears tumble down his face…

 

”What happened tonight, Harry?” Draco asks quietly, his arm looping around Harry’s hunched shoulders. 

 

”He forgot to take his potion, because… Because…” 

 

With a shuddering breath, Harry doubles back and tells Draco about the Weasley twins giving him the map, then learning about the Marauders, and Peter Pettigrew; He tells him about his dad seeing that picture in the Prophet and freaking out, sure that Ron’s pet rat Scabbers was their old school friend in his animagus form; He tells him his daddy found out he had the map and confiscated it… 

 

”And tonight, he saw Pettigrew’s name on it and went to hunt him down, before Professor Snape had given him the potion… I ran after them, to give him the potion—”

 

”Of course you did”, Draco mutters. 

 

”And I saw them… Dad was threatening this man, this Pettigrew guy, saying he betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort… Then the clouds broke and…” 

 

”Oh Merlin…” Draco breathes. 

 

”I saw my daddy transform, I saw _everything,_ and my dad — my dad — he transformed too, I don’t understand it, he — he — into _a dog_ — I don’t…”

 

”So you’re dad’s an animagus too?”

 

”I- I guess, I… But he never _told_ me, they never told me _any of this_!”

 

”It makes sense for him to be an animagus”, Draco says. ”You said he takes care of your daddy when it’s that time of the month? If he can turn into an animal, that would explain why your daddy wouldn’t be affected by his presence when he’s… You know…”

 

”Yeah… Yeah, you’re right, that does make sense… Hey, I just remembered”, Harry says as the clock chimes midnight. ”Happy birthday…”

 

The blonde gives him a small smile and pulls him a little closer. Harry lets his head fall onto the other boy’s shoulder and closes his eyes with a sigh when he feels a hand gently rub his arm. 

 

”I’ve missed you so much, Draco…” he whispers. ”You have no idea…”

 

Draco doesn’t say anything for the longest time. But when he finally does, his voice his thick with repressed emotion and barely above a whisper. 

 

”I think I do…”

 

 

*

 

”What the Hell…” 

 

Harry blinks his eyes open again, squinting in the green light from the windows he realises it’s morning already… He must have fallen asleep… He twists a little and looks up at a scowling Pansy Parkinson standing over him with her arms crossed. 

 

”What…” he croaks sleepily. 

 

He tries to sit up, but there’s a weight on his chest. He looks down and comes face to face with a mop of white-blonde hair. 

 

”Why are you and Draco sleeping in the Common Room?” Pansy demands. ”Better yet, why are you and Draco sleeping _together?_ ”

 

”What”, Harry mutters again, shooting her a glare. 

 

”Draco!” the girl more or less shrieks, startling the blonde awake finally. ”Why are you sleeping with Harry?”

 

Draco quickly scrambles away from Harry and stumbles off the sofa, looking around in newly awakened confusion, ”I-I-I’m not — I — What?”

 

”I thought you weren’t friends with him anymore!” 

 

Draco wheels around, locating Pansy and squinting at her through sleep-swollen eyes. 

 

”Relax, Pans”, Harry mutters and sits up as well. ”We didn’t mean to fall asleep here, it just happened, get over it…”

 

”Draco, why were you sitting with Harry on the sofa in the first place?”

 

Draco just blinks. 

 

” _Draco!_ ” the girl exclaims and Harry winces at her shrill, grating voice. ”Is there something going on that I should know about?”

 

”Why are you talking like you’re his _girlfriend?_ ” Harry snaps. ”What’s it to you anyway!”

 

”Are you going to let him talk to me like that?” Pansy demands. 

 

”I…” Draco croaks. ”Uhm…”

 

”Oh, forget it!” Pansy snaps and spins on her heel, stomping out of the Common Room. 

 

Draco glances around and cringes. Harry turns around as well and — _Yep, everybody’s here. Great._

 

”Show’s over”, he grumbles. 

 

”Sooo…” Seamus says slowly, looking expectantly between the two of them. ”What’s the status…?”

 

Draco almost trips over in his haste to flee the Common Room, looking like a spooked animal. Harry gives his friends a sarcastic smile and gestures after him as if to say, _There’s your status report!_

 

Seamus and Blaise exchange an exasperated look and go back to their chess game. 

 

Harry stands up and stretches. He’s got a crick in his neck, but it was definitely worth it considering he got to cuddle with Draco. _All night._

 

He doesn’t bother changing his robes, just flattens his hair as much as possible with his hands and goes to brush his teeth quickly before he makes his way to his daddy quarters. The bed is still made when he gets there. Of course his daddy would have got up and made it by this time, but Harry knows the bed hasn’t been slept in during the night… He sighs and sinks down on the edge of it and tries to think… He can use the map to find his daddy and go look for him… Or he can wait here for him to come back when he’s ready… 

 

In the end, Harry decides to wait. But he doesn’t have to wait for long. 

 

Within moments, he can hear someone enter the office and quickly stands up and walks over to the door. 

 

Remus stops in surprise in the middle of the room and then slumps against the desk in relief. 

 

”Harry… There you are…”

 

”Were you looking for me?” Harry asks. ”I’m sorry…”

 

”It’s… It’s fine…” Remus says and shakes his head weakly. 

 

”Are you okay, daddy?”

 

Heaving a great sigh, Remus pushes himself away from the desk for long enough to walk around it and sink down in the desk chair. 

 

”I’m sure you have… Questions…”

 

Harry just shakes his head, because he’s now read everything he’s been able to find on werewolves and the only thing the books haven’t been able to tell him is why his dads have kept this huge part of their lives a secret from him, and honestly, Harry doesn’t really want that question answered anyway… 

 

As if reading his thoughts, Remus starts to tell him anyway and Harry gets to see his daddy’s eyes well up with tears for the second time in his life and just like the first time, it shakes him to the core. He cautiously walks up to the desk and perches on the seat opposite Remus as the man struggles to choose his words. 

 

”I should have told you a long time ago, I know that… Your dad kept telling me it was time… But I…” he sighs and shakes his head. ”I just couldn’t bear the thought of — I mean, I knew it was inevitable — wanted to put it off for as long as possible because I knew it would break my heart to — to see my own son _scared_ —”

 

He cuts himself off and takes another shuddering breath. 

 

Harry frowns. 

 

”— scared of me —”

 

”No!” Harry blurts out and before he’s even aware of moving, he finds himself on his feet again. ”I’d never be scared of you, daddy! _Ever!_ ” 

 

Remus slumps over with relief and hangs his head, chuckling a little quietly. 

 

But it’s not until he covers his eyes with a trembling hand that Harry realises that his daddy is actually crying. Without thinking about it, he rounds the desk in three quick strides and then, curling up like a pretzel, he burrows into the man’s arms and clambers up into his lap. Remus immediately throws both arms around him and buries his face into his hair and breathes in deeply. Then tightens his embrace even more. 

 

They sit like that for long time, and Harry almost dozes off again. But then he remembers Pettigrew and shakes himself awake again. 

 

”Daddy what happened to that man, Pettigrew?”

 

”Oh, he got away…” Remus murmurs. ”He probably transformed into a rat again and ran away… But it doesn’t matter, Harry. He won’t be coming back here again. You’re safe.”

 

” _I’m_ safe?” Harry says. ”What do you mean?”

 

”Harry, how much did you hear last night?”

 

”Not all of it, but enough. I know what happened — To James and Lily — I know Pettigrew betrayed them, but —”

 

”Twelve years ago, James and Lily went into hiding because the Voldemort was after them, after—”

 

”—I know, and Pettigrew was their Secret-Keeper—”

 

”—Yes, but the _reason_ Voldemort was after them was because of you, Harry”, Remus says and peers into his face. ”He wanted _you._ ”

 

”M-me? Why? I was just a baby…”

 

”We heard about a prophecy that was made about a boy that would have the power to destroy the Dark Lord. Voldemort had heard of the prophecy too and he had reason to believe that boy was you… And so he set out to — to kill you while you were still a defenceless baby”, Remus grip tightens unconsciously around Harry as he speaks, but Harry doesn’t complain. It helps him feel grounded, as the words sink in and his mind begins to race. ”Peter Pettigrew betrayed us all, he betrayed your mother and father; He gave their — your — location away and that’s how Voldemort found you that night… But something went wrong, as you know… He couldn’t kill you… Many of the Death Eaters believed Pettigrew had betrayed them as well, that he was the reason Voldemort was defeated that night, and so Pettigrew has been on the run ever since… On the run from us, as well as the Death Eaters… The only way he could possibly redeem himself to his new friends would be to finish the job that the Dark Lord started that night.”

 

”Kill me?” Harry says doubtfully. ”But if he’s been Ron’s pet rat this whole time, he’s had plenty of opportunities to kill me and he’s never even tried — Okay, ow, you’re _really_ crushing me now —”

 

”Sorry, sorry—” Remus mutters quickly and eases his embrace again. ”I don’t know, Harry. Maybe he was biding his time or waiting for the right opportunity. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

 

He pets Harry’s hair and Harry gratefully leans into the touch, feeling sleepy again. 

 

”So when are you going to tell me the other story?” he asks lightly. 

 

”What other story?”

 

”The one where dad is an animagus and you guys never told me…”

 

”Ah… _That_ story… Well, the whole thing started when we were at school. Back in those days, the Wolfsbane potion hadn’t been invented yet, so in order for me to attend Hogwarts, other measures had to be taken to keep the other students safe… So Professor Dumbledore arranged for me to hide in a small shack in Hogsmeade every full moon. A teacher escorted me there a couple of days before and locked me in… Then they came back to retrieve me a few days after… The Whomping Willow was planted at the entrance of the secret tunnel that lead to the shack, to keep students from accidentally discovering it… But of course, my friends started to get suspicious fairly quickly and it didn’t take them long to discover my secret…”

 

”Wait… You don’t mean… The _Shrieking_ Shack?”

 

”Yes, but it didn’t get that nickname until halfway into our second year…”

 

”It wasn’t haunted before then?”

 

”It was never haunted”, Remus corrects. ”The noises that the villagers took to be the shrieks from some tortured ghoul came from _me_ …”

 

With a sinking feeling, it starts to become clear to Harry what his daddy is actually telling him. At only eleven years old, he’d been locked into a shack to deal with his transformation all alone, howling in pain and frustration, clawing at himself… Harry feels his eyes well up with tears and burrows his face into the man’s chest. 

 

”It was actually your father’s idea that they all become animagi”, Remus says cheerfully. ”That way, they could keep me company without putting themselves at risk, you see? It took them several years — it’s really advanced magic, and they were learning it all on their own — but they finally managed and after that, we all spent the nights of the full moon playing together in the forest and instead of dreading that time of the month, I actually started looking forward to it… It was really a life changer, and all because of your father—”

 

”Daddy”, Harry interrupts. 

 

”Yes, pup?”

 

”I know you were really close friends and everything, but can you please call him James? It just feels really weird when you call him my father…”

 

”Harry…” Remus sighs. ”James and Lily are a part of you. They loved you more than anything—”

 

”—I know that—”

 

”—They were and will always be your parents… And acknowledging that won’t diminish what Sirius and I are to you, or what we feel about you… Or what you feel about us… There’s no limit to the amount of room a person has in their heart.”

 

”Yeah, but… I don’t even remember them…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”I know…” Remus sighs and rubs his back. 

 

”At least not James…”

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”Well, I… I kind of remember Lily… Well, her voice—”

 

”You do—?”

 

”—I hear it in my nightmares—”

 

”—What… Oh…”

 

”I hear her plead with Voldemort to spare me, before she screams and then… Then everything used to just go green and I’d wake up, but ever since — you know — first year — I dream I see his face — well his eyes — first, and then everything goes green…”

 

”Oh, Harry…” Remus mumbles and kisses his forehead gently. ”If I could switch dreams with you I would… Are you all right, pup?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and for the first time in a very long while, he actually means it. 

 

”Good… Come on, let’s go scavenge the kitchen for some breakfast…”

 

 


	18. A summer date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: just fixed the kissing scene a little

”This is the way to the kitchens?” Harry says in a hushed voice as he trails after his daddy. 

 

Remus nods and sidles up to a large painting of a fruit bowl. Giving Harry a secretive smile, he gestures for him to come a little closer before he tickles one of the pears in the painting… The pear wiggles as though laughing and suddenly the whole painting dislodges itself from the wall, revealing a square hole behind it. 

 

”After you…” Remus says smoothly. 

 

Harry beams and eagerly clambers inside the hole, looking around in wonder as he finds himself in the largest and busiest kitchen he’s ever seen. At least a hundred house-elves, if not more, scurry around the room, preparing food and doing dishes, along the walls of the room. Whereas in the middle stands four long tables that Harry guesses are replicas of the four house tables in the Great Hall.

 

”Visitors!” one house-elf squeaks excitedly and hops down from the tiny step-ladder that’s allowed it to reach one of the cupboards. ”Welcome, Sirs! Welcome!”

 

”Harry Potter, Sir!” another voice squeals and Harry turns around to see none other than the house-elf he freed from the Malfoys almost a year ago, looking almost exactly as Harry remembers with its pencil-shaped nose, tennis ball-shaped eyes and huge bat-like ears. The only thing that’s changed is the elf’s clothing. Rather than a filthy pillow-case, the elf is now wearing a ghastly tie over his bare chest, short shorts made of some weird, shiny muggle material and a stained tea cosy as a hat.

 

”You…” Harry says. ”What… What are you doing here?”

 

”Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Sir! Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby a job, Sir!”

 

Remus puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gives him a questioning look. 

 

”Oh, daddy, this is… Er, I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” Harry asks the house-elf. 

 

”Dobby, Sir!” 

 

”Right, Dobby”, Harry repeats and then turns back to his daddy. ”Dobby used to belong to the Malfoys, he’s the one who tried to stop me from getting to Hogwarts last year… He was trying to save my life, but…”

 

”I see…” Remus murmurs. ”Well, Dobby, it’s nice to meet you.”

 

”Yeah, Dobby, this is my daddy, Remus Lupin”, Harry says hastily. ”And he’s a teacher here at Hogwarts, as well.”

 

”Oh, Professor Mister Remus Lupin Sir, such an honour it is—!” the house-elf squeals and gives Remus one of his deep bows, causing the tea cosy to fall off his head. 

 

”Have you been here all year?” Harry asks curiously.

 

”Oh, no, Harry Potter, Sir”, Dobby says, readjusting the tea cosy between his giant ears. ”Only a week, Sir… You see it’s very difficult for a house-elf who’s been dismissed to get a new position, Sir… Dobby has been travelling all over the country looking for work, Sir… But no-one is wanting to pay Dobby, Sir, that is the problem, and Dobby is wanting to be paid now, Sir… But Professor Dumbledore took Dobby in, Sir! So Dobby is still a free elf, Harry Potter, Sir! And Dobby is paid one galleon a week and gets one day off a month!” 

 

”That’s… Great, Dobby…”

 

The house-elf nods eagerly and his big, round eyes fill up with tears. 

 

”And it’s all thanks to Mister Harry Potter, Sir!”

 

”Yeah, don’t mention it”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”Dobby”, Remus interrupts gently as the elf continues to gush over Harry. ”Would it be at all possible to make Harry here a fry-up or something? He hasn’t had any breakfast yet…”

 

”Oh, yes, of course, Mister Professor Lupin Sir!” Dobby squeals excitedly. ”Come sit, come sit, and Dobby will make you the best meal ever, Sirs!”

 

”Nothing for me, just a cup of hot chocolate, please”, Remus says as he steers Harry over to one of the tables and sits down, then waits for Dobby scuttle away before he turns to Harry with an expectant look. ”Want to explain?”

 

Harry sighs and slumps a little in his seat. 

 

”I… I kind of tricked Mr Malfoy into setting him free last year, that night when you all came to the school because, you know…” 

 

Remus nods slowly, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

”Anyway…” Harry mumbles. ”That’s the real reason Draco’s not allowed to be around me anymore…”

 

Remus nods again, looking even more apprehensive and seemingly weighing his words carefully, he finally licks his lips and says, ”And how are things with Draco now?”

 

”Oh, much better!” Harry exclaims happily. ”We actually slept together last night—!”

 

Remus eyes widen comically in alarm.

 

”Not like _that!_ ” Harry adds hurriedly. ”We were just talking and happened to fall asleep!”

 

”Right…” Remus says faintly. ”That’s… That’s fine, Harry, just… Just don’t tell your dad.”

 

”But we didn’t even _do_ anything”, Harry says, blushing furiously. 

 

”Nevertheless…” Remus mutters. 

 

Dobby returns carrying a massive tray full of steaming hot breakfast foods and Harry’s stomach immediately grumbles. Remus smiles his thanks to the house-elf and grabs the massive mug of chocolate from the tray and sips it carefully while he watches Harry butter a slice of toast. 

 

”You sure you don’t want any?” Harry asks, piling jelly on top of the slice before stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

 

”I can’t really stomach much food this soon after…” Remus says. ”Maybe just a piece of bacon…”

 

Harry hands him the plate of bacon, but flashing back to the many textbooks he’s read on werewolves, he suddenly remembers one of the symptoms of being a werewolf is a taste for raw meat even when you’re not transformed into your wolf form. 

 

”I’m sure Dobby will grab you some raw bacon though, if you prefer”, he says. ”I wouldn’t mind.”

 

Remus gives him a surprised, if a little misty look, ”That’s very considerate of you, Harry. Thank you. I’m fine with this though…”

 

After they’ve finished breakfast, Remus walks Harry to the dungeons and gives him a big hug before returning to his own quarters. 

 

Harry finds Seamus and Blaise still hanging out in the Common room and challenges the Irish boy to a game of Exploding Snap as soon as Blaise has slaughtered him in yet another game of Wizarding Chess. 

 

”You seem very happy…” Blaise comments lightly. 

 

Harry ignores him, and Seamus suggestive smirk as well. 

 

”Had a good night’s sleep?” Blaise continues, just as lightly and Seamus snickers. 

 

”Shut up, both of you”, Harry says, grinning. ”Hey, where’s Draco anyway?”

 

”Hospital Wing”, Seamus says. 

 

The grin slides right off Harry’s face again. Blaise rolls his eyes and gives Seamus a gentle punch on the arm. 

 

”Ow, what was that for?”

 

”Learn some tact, Finnegan”, Blaise retorts. ”Draco’s fine, Harry. Madam Pompfrey just wanted to do a check-up…”

 

”A check-up?” Harry echoes. ”What for?”

 

Blaise shrugs and turns around in his seat, yelling at Pansy on the other side of the Common room, ”Hey, Pans! What was Draco’s check-up for?”

 

”Just another routine one”, the girl calls back with a dismissive hand wave. 

 

” _Another_ one?” Harry says. 

 

”Oh, _what,_ he didn’t _tell_ you? I thought you were _best friends_ again?” Pansy taunts. 

 

”Merlin, I hate her…” Harry mutters and turns back to the Exploding Snap game. 

 

”I think it’s just for checking weight and height, as stuff like that”, Blaise says.

 

” _I’ve_ never had one those”, Harry says. 

 

”Now that _is_ surprising…” Pansy says in a loud, carrying voice so that the whole Common room hears it. ”I would think Madam Pompfrey would be _very_ curious to investigate what’s stomping your growth—”

 

”Like that’s a big mystery”, Seamus says. ”Having to look at your ugly mug would stop _anyone’s_ from _growing!_ ”

 

Pansy and Daphne’s suppressed snickers stop abruptly and they splutter in disgust. 

 

”Boys are so gross!”

 

”Not _all_ boys”, Pansy corrects Daphne, glaring at Seamus and Harry. ”Just the _really immature_ ones…”

 

 

*

 

On the morning of June thirteenth, Harry accompanies his friends to the train station in Hogsmeade to see them off before he makes his way across town where his dads have hugs and brunch waiting for him. 

 

”Harry, there is something I have to tell you…” Remus says as he gives him a refill of hot chocolate. 

 

”What is it?” Harry asks, looking curiously between his dads. 

 

”I have resigned from my post as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—”

 

”What, no! You can’t!”

 

”It’s already done.”

 

”But, why? You’re the best DADA teacher Hogwarts ever had!”

 

”Thank you, Harry”, Remus says with a small smile. ”But I’ve made up mind. I put you and the other students at risk, and I won’t let that happen again—”

 

”But nothing happened—!”

 

”Harry”, Remus says loudly and fixes him with a serious look. ”This is not up for discussion. It’s done… Now, don’t worry. Dad and I have talked about it and we’ve decided to keep the house, so you’ll see me just as often as you’ve seen dad this past year… Okay?”

 

”But… What will you do?”

 

”I actually have an idea for a textbook”, he says, exchanging a look with Sirius who immediately reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze. ”I always loved teaching, but if I can’t do it directly then maybe I can do it indirectly…”

 

”I’m sure it’ll be great, I just don’t think it’s fair…” Harry mumbles. 

 

Remus gets up and starts collecting everyone’s empty plates. He leans down and gives Harry a kiss on the temple before walking over to the sink.

 

”Didn’t we have some of that chocolate cake left?” Sirius asks loudly, giving Harry a subtle wink.

 

”Oh _, yes!_ I think —” Remus says eagerly, moving over to the pantry and digging through the contents with an almost childlike enthusiasm that makes Harry grin. ”Yes, we do! Harry, do you want a piece?”

 

”Yes, please!” he says quickly. 

 

 

Harry has just climbed into bed when there’s an insistent rapping on his window. Putting his glasses back on, Harry reaches for his wand.

 

” _Lumos_ ”, he mutters.

 

With a jolt, Harry spots a familiar-looking eagle owl hovering outside the window, scratching insistently against the glass pane… _Bertram… Draco’s owl…_

 

Harry is so quick to scramble out of bed that he gets his leg tangled up in the cover and falls to the floor with a _thump_ , bumping his head on the side of the nightstand, but the dull throbbing barely even registers as he kicks the cover away and hurries over to the window. 

 

” _Harry?_ ” Remus calls from the lounge. ” _You all right?_ ”

 

Harry unhooks the latch on the window and beams as Bertram swoops inside and lands deftly on top of his shoulder. 

 

”Hey there…” Harry croons. ”What’s that you’ve got for me?”

 

The owl sticks his leg out and allows Harry to untie the small roll of parchment. 

 

” _HARRY?_ ” Remus shouts again. 

 

”Yeah, I’m all right!” Harry shouts back.

 

As soon as the string comes off the owl’s leg, it takes off again and Harry absent-mindedly shoves the window shut with his shoulder while unrolling the message… His heart leaps at the sight of the familiar handwriting… 

 

 

_Harry!_

 

_You won’t believe what’s just happened! Mother has been trying to talk some sense into Father ever since last summer — and she finally got through to him! He no longer disapproves of our acquaintance! (Well — he does — but he no longer forbids it!)_

 

_And that’s not all… Father has managed to get tickets for the Quidditch World Cup this summer and, by way of apology, he says I can invite you as my guest!_

 

_You will come, won’t you? You do forgive me, don’t you? Oh, please say you forgive me and that you’ll come to the World Cup, Harry!_

 

 

Heart hammering in his chest, Harry hurries over to his desk and accidentally knocks over a toppling pile of books as he rifles through the mess looking for a quill. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” Remus shouts again. ” _What are you_ doing _in there?_ ”

 

”Nothing!” Harry yells back. 

 

Finally finding a somewhat rumpled quill and a blank scrap of parchment, Harry quickly scribbles out his reply. 

 

Swirling around, he looks for Hedwig but her cage is empty. 

 

”Dad! Daddy!” he hollers and launches himself out of his room. ”Have you seen Hedwig?”

 

He thunders into the lounge, barely noticing the frowns on his dads faces or his dad dabbing at a growing wine stain on his shirt front and Remus taking the dripping wine glass from him and placing it on top of the coffee table. 

 

”Harry”, he scolds. ”You should be in bed—!”

 

”I know, I know, I know”, Harry says hurriedly. ”I was — I will be — just need to send this letter to Draco really quickly, okay? Please! Have you seen Hedwig—?”

 

”Calm down. Breathe.” Sirius says, rolling his eyes. ”I guess you two are on speaking terms again, then?”

 

Harry beams and waves the letter from Draco excitedly, ”He just sent me an owl!”

 

His dads exchange an amused look, but try their best to remain stern. 

 

”Harry, it’s really late”, Remus says. ”The letter will have to wait until morning.”

 

”But —”

 

”No, no buts.”

 

”But —”

 

”Harry…”

 

”Okay, but can I go to the World Cup with the Malfoys in August?”

 

” _What?_ ” both his dads say in unison. 

 

”Ehm…. Please?…” Harry adds uncertainly, his excitement quickly ebbing away at the looks on his dads faces. 

 

”Absolutely not”, Sirius growls. 

 

Remus shoots his husband an uneasy glance, then turns back to Harry with a sympathetic look. Harry stares back, horrified… He can’t believe it… How can his dads begrudge him something like this? How can they even think twice about it?

 

Remus sighs and holds out his hands, ”Let me see the letter…”

 

”Remus…” Sirius growls in warning. 

 

”Just…” Remus holds up a hand. ”Let’s just take a moment and think about it—”

 

” _Unbelievable!_ ”

 

”Harry, can I see the letter?” Remus asks again and Harry eagerly kills the distance between them and hands it to him, wringing his hands anxiously while his daddy reads it. ”Harry, I’m really happy for you, and Draco, I am… But you’re thirteen—”

 

”Fourteen soon”, Harry mutters. 

 

”And to let you go to the World Cup on your own”, Remus continues. ”That is a _very_ big ask…”

 

”It won’t be just the two of us, Mr and Mrs Malfoy will be there—”

 

”That is _not_ reassuring”, Sirius grumbles. 

 

”Sirius, please”, Remus says, giving his husband a frustrated look. 

 

”Fine, _Mrs Malfoy will be there_ ”, Harry amends. ”And so will a hundred thousand other witches and wizards. Lots of witnesses. So, it’ll be fine. _I’ll_ be fine. You won’t have anything to worry about besides Krum catching the Snitch and Bulgaria winning the Cup…”

 

His dads just stare silently at him for a long moment. Finally Sirius heaves a tired sigh and turns to Remus. 

 

”He really is a Slytherin, isn’t he…”

 

Remus lips twitch and he nods. 

 

”So…?” Harry says hopefully. 

 

”Tell you what”, Sirius says. ”If you go to bed right now and _go to sleep_ , your daddy and I promise to talk about it…”

 

”That’s a _yes_!” Harry squeals happily and bounces on his feet, then quickly spins on his heel and hurries back to his bedroom.

 

”That is _not_ a yes!” Sirius calls after him. 

 

But the next morning, as Harry comes bounding into the kitchen, both his dads greet him with looks of fond exasperation and Sirius rolls his eyes and gives him a nod. Harry lets out a happy squeal and lunges across the table to throw his arms around the man’s neck in a massive hug. 

 

”There are some conditions”, Sirius mutters half-heartedly. 

 

” _I don’t care, this is the best day ever!_ ” Harry exclaims and bounces over to his daddy to give him a hug as well. 

 

Remus chuckles fondly and returns the embrace. 

 

”Well, it’s about time you had a good one…” he murmurs gently and strokes the back of Harry’s hair, before leaning back to peer into his face. ”I’ve already written a letter to Narcissa to set up a time for us to floo call and go over the details, and I also took the liberty of inviting Draco over for lunch — hope that’s okay?”

 

”Are you kidding, that’s amazing!” Harry exclaims and hugs him again. 

 

”He’ll be here in about two hours. You might want to clean your room a bit before he gets here…”

 

”Why? He knows how messy I am…” Harry says and takes a seat at the table. ”What are we going to cook?”

 

Remus raises his eyebrows in surprise, ”You want to help me cook?”

 

Harry nods eagerly, reaching for the butter. 

 

”All right… Well, what’s some of Draco’s favourite foods?”

 

”Ehm, well…” Harry says at length, as he thinks about all the times he’s watched Draco move bits of potato and vegetables around his plate. ”He likes boiled things, like potato and veggies… I don’t think he likes pie very much, because he never eats bread or stuff like that… And he doesn’t sauces, or pasta… Or meat…”

 

Sirius snorts behind his coffee cup, ”Should have known he’d be a fussy eater…”

 

Remus doesn’t say anything, just frowns. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says uncomfortably. ”He doesn’t really like to eat a lot, I guess…”

 

”I’m sure we can think of something”, Remus says. 

 

Just to be sure, they end up cooking a wide assortment of different foods and by the end their kitchen table is so crowded with little dishes it looks like a miniature version of one of the Hogwarts House tables during one of the Welcome Feasts. Harry grins proudly, even as his stomach flutters nervously… _Maybe it’s too much… Maybe Draco will think we’re food freaks… Maybe —_

 

”Harry…” Remus says gently. ”Go wash up, he’ll be here any minute.”

 

Harry hurriedly runs out to the bathroom to wash his hands and his face quickly, then tries his best to flatten his hair before declaring it a lost cause and runs back out again. Remus gives him a surprised, but amused look when he comes back and sits back down at the table, tapping his fingers against his empty coffee cup nervously. 

 

”Aren’t you going to go wait in the lounge?”

 

”No…” Harry pants. ”Don’t want to seem too eager…”

 

”Right…” Remus nods seriously, but his eyes twinkle and his lips twitch. 

 

”Shut up”, Harry mutters, ducking his head to hide his blush. 

 

A sudden _whoosh_ from the lounge alerts them to the floo activating and Harry looks up at Remus in alarm. The man just smiles at him and gestures for him to go in there. 

 

Harry stumbles to his feet and runs into the lounge, thudding to a stop inside the door just as Draco climbs out of the fireplace, his robes miraculously clean of ash. He turns around and his whole face lights up when he sees Harry, whose heart skips a beat at the sight and then starts hammering at a wild pace as if to make up for it…

 

Grinning madly, Harry dashes forward and launches himself at the other boy, nearly knocking him off his feet as he throws his arms around him. Draco lets out a breathy chuckle and returns the embrace. 

 

”You’re here…” Harry murmurs happily. 

 

”Yeah…” Draco whispers, tightening his hold on Harry for just a moment. 

 

”Come on”, Harry says, tugging on his hand. ”Daddy and I have been cooking, but don’t freak out, okay? We just couldn’t decide what to make, so we ended up cooking a whole bunch of different things, but you don’t have to try everything…”

 

”Ehm…” Draco pauses in the doorway and stares at the spread. ”I don’t think that’s physically possible…”

 

Remus chuckles and puts the last dish on the table, ”Hi Draco, it’s nice to see you again…”

 

”Hi Professor Lupin, thanks for having me”, Draco says quickly. 

 

”You’re very welcome, but please call me Remus… I’m no longer your professor.”

 

”Hi Draco!” Sirius greets lightly as he shoves past the two boys and takes his seat at the table.

 

”Hi Mister Black, thank you for having—”

 

”Call me Sirius”, the man interrupts. ”And sit down already, so we can eat…”

 

”You’ll have to excuse Harry’s dad, Draco”, Remus says with an exasperated yet fond glare in Sirius direction. ”He can be a little abrupt at times… But please, do have a seat…”

 

”Thank you”, Draco mumbles again as he and Harry take their seats at the table. ”It all looks… Amazing…”

 

”You don’t have to eat anything you don’t want”, Harry says quickly. ”But I made the treacle tart, so have to try that!”

 

”I’m sure Draco will want some actual food first, before he has dessert…” Remus tells Harry with an amused smirk, passing the bowl of boiled potatoes to the blonde. 

 

”Thank you”, Draco says hurriedly, accepting the bowl. 

 

He scoops up one of the smaller potatoes and places it on his plate, but sensing the others eyes on him he quickly adds another one as well before handing the bowl to Harry. 

 

They eat in mostly comfortable silence, Remus breaking it every so often to ask Draco about his studies and if he’s excited about the World Cup. Draco is always quick to answer politely and sits up a little straighter every time Remus talks to him, Harry notices. 

 

”So you’re rooting for Ireland?” Sirius chimes in as soon as the topic shifts from schoolwork to quidditch.

 

”Yes, Sir”, Draco says with a nod. 

 

”Think they’ll win?”

 

”I think they have a good chance, Sir… Viktor Krum is definitely a better Seeker than Lynch, but I think Ireland has a stronger team overall.”

 

Sirius nods agreement. 

 

”Krum is amazing, though”, Harry says. ”I wish _I_ could fly like that…”

 

” _You_ can”, Draco says with a huff and rolls his eyes. ”I’m going to get that Creepy kid to take a picture of you flying next year, just so you can see yourself… It’s insane, it’s like you’re not even on a broom at all, you’re just…”

 

He trails off with a blush and just shakes his head. 

 

”Think Snape will lift my ban this year?” Harry asks, ignoring the comment about Colin Creevey entirely. 

 

”He better if he wants to prevent Flint from going berserk, which he will if he doesn’t win the Quidditch Cup his last year…”

 

”Flint, that’s your Team Captain?” Remus asks. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”He’s very competitive…”

 

”So, Draco…” Sirius says suddenly, causing the blonde to jump slightly. ”How come your dad had an extra ticket to the World Cup? It’s been sold out for ages.”

 

”Ehm, well, Sir, he always —”

 

”Call me Sirius”, the older man cut in and Harry frowns at his dad.

 

”S-Sirius, sorry”, Draco says, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. ”Father always intended to let me invite a companion. He originally suggested my friend Pansy Parkinson, but Mother persuaded him to let me ask Harry…”

 

”That was nice of her”, Sirius says, but there’s an edge to his voice. ”Parkinson, you say? Oh, yes… I know that family… How is Narcissa nowadays, anyway? You know she’s my cousin?”

 

”Ehm, yes — yes, she’s told me”, Draco answers politely. ”She’s fine, thank you.”

 

”Good. That’s good. I don’t think I’ve seen her since… When was it, Moony? My dear mother’s funeral, was it —?”

 

Remus seems to swallows a sigh, ”No, you saw her at King’s Cross with Harry only a couple of years ago. Now—”

 

”Oh, right, right”, Sirius says dismissively. ”We didn’t get to talk then, though. Unfortunately. You know, she was always one of my favourite family members?” he tells Draco. ”That’s not saying much in our family, granted, but I always liked her enough…”

 

”I think that’s enough—” Remus says quietly.

 

”Thought it was nice of her to come to the funeral, not a lot of people did — _I_ wasn’t going to go, right, Remus?” he asks, then continues without waiting for a response. ”Remus made me go. Said I needed closure.”

 

”I-I see…” Draco mumbles uncertainly. 

 

Remus shoots Harry an apologetic look, then tries to grab his husband’s hand subtly. But Sirius dodges it and puts his arm up on the back of Remus’s backrest instead, leaning back in his own chair. 

 

”My mother wasn’t a very nice woman, not very forgiving… We didn’t have any contact with each other after I told her about me and Remus. She didn’t like that, you see. It wasn’t in accordance with the pureblood tradition. But you know all about that…” he gives Draco a meaningful nod. 

 

Harry looks uncomfortably between his dads and Draco, who looks paler than Harry’s ever seen him… I’m missing something, he thinks. 

 

”Oh, Sirius, before I forget”, Remus says lightly. ”I need you to take a look at the grandfather clock in the lounge, I think there’s a Boggart in it…”

 

Sirius finally tears his eyes away from Draco and gives his husband a weird look. Harry would be inclined to agree, considering he knows his daddy is an expert Boggart-handler and literally taught the skill to Harry and his classmates last year, but something tells him that his daddy is just trying to change the subject… 

 

”Harry, if you and Draco are finished, why don’t you take Draco into town and have a look at the market? We’ll have your treacle tart for tea instead!”

 

Harry nods and hurriedly gets up from the table. 

 

”Come on, Draco. They’re going to fight…”

 

” _We are?_ ” they can hear Sirius mutter from the kitchen just before they slip out the front door. 

 

”I’m… _so_ … sorry”, he says. ”I don’t know what got into my dad, he never acts like that!”

 

”It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have mentioned Pansy…” Draco mumbles. 

 

”Why?” 

 

”Never mind… Oh, wow, I’d nearly forgotten!” Draco says as he looks up towards the hill where a few of Hogwarts pinnacles can be seen. ”You live in Hogsmeade now! I get to see what Hogsmeade is like in the summer!”

 

”Yeah, come on, let me show you the market”, Harry says just as eagerly. 

 

They spend the whole afternoon exploring the town, Harry dragging Draco to look at Zonko’s new line of products and Draco dragging Harry away again so that he can go look for a gift for his mum in the small perfume shop on the corner next to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. 

 

”It’s her birthday soon”, he explains. 

 

”Your mum’s birthday is in July? So’s mine!”

 

Draco gives him an amused smirk, ”I _know_ …”

 

”Oh, right… So are you going to get me present?” Harry asks with a teasing grin. 

 

”Did you get me one?” Draco counters, but his smile doesn’t waver. 

 

”That’s different, you weren’t even talking to me…” Harry says, holding the door open for Draco and scrounging up his nose as the fragrance of about a hundred different perfumes suddenly hits him in a heavy wave.

 

”Actually, on my birthday I was”, Draco reminds him and walks up to one of the display cases. ”Did you hear about that Hippogriff?”

 

”Oh yeah, I heard it got put down… Hagrid was really upset about it, apparently.”

 

”Guess who got offered the head as a birthday gift?” Draco says drily, then adding quickly. ”I said I didn’t want it.”

 

”That’s _sick_ …”

 

”I said no!”

 

”No, I mean, that’s sick of your dad to even think of that… Are you sure he wasn’t joking?”

 

”Father doesn’t joke”, Draco mutters. ”He makes gibes and sarcastic comments, but never jokes.”

 

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just pulls a sympathetic face and knocks his shoulder against Draco’s. 

 

”So… _Are_ you going to get me a present?”

 

Draco rolls his eyes and smiles, ”I already did, all right…”

 

”Really?” Harry perks up excitedly. ”What’d you get me?”

 

”You’ll see in July”, Draco counters. ”Now, help me pick out a fragrance for my mother…”

 

Harry gives him a scandalised look and Draco huffs, rolling his eyes again. Then looks around for the shop assistant instead. Harry shuffles over to stand at the blonde’s shoulder awkwardly while he and the chipper witch launch into a discussion that is way too passionate for Harry’s liking, considering it’s about women’s perfume… 

 

”This one is called _Fleur D’Interdit_ and is a collaboration with Muggle designer _Givenchy_ —”

 

”Muggle?” Draco says. ”Oh no, sorry, nothing muggle. My mother is very… Particular about these things…”

 

”I see…” the girl says with a grin better suited to a knock-knock joke. ”Then might I suggest this… _Comme la Neige_ by Madam Primpernelle… It’s from her new line of fragrances, just imported form Diagon Alley this week.”

 

”What do you think?” Draco asks Harry suddenly.

 

Harry flinches as an arm is abruptly shoved under his nose, then warily gives the exposed wrist a sniff. Draco and the shop assistant stare at him expectantly. 

 

”Ehm… I mean… It smells good on _you_ …” Harry mumbles awkwardly, blushing furiously.

 

”I guess that will have to do”, Draco mutters, giving the shop assistant a sidelong look. ”I’ll take it, and can I get it wrapped please?”

 

”Certainly!” She titters and proceeds to package the tiny glass bottle in a shiny box twice its size. 

 

”What do _I_ know about women’s perfume”, Harry mutters in his defence. ”I don’t even _know_ any women…”

 

”I know”, Draco says drily. ”It couldn’t hurt you to make a few female friends, you know…”

 

”What, like _Pansy_?” Harry snorts. ”Not on your life!”

 

”I see you’re still as pigheaded as ever…” Draco drawls, but Harry catches his lips twitch so he doesn’t take it to heart. 

 

”Daphne is pretty nice, though”, Harry concedes, earning a sharp look. 

 

”What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

”That she’s nice”, Harry repeats slowly. ”Compared to Pansy — who isn’t.”

 

”Here you go, Sir…” the shop assistant twitters, placing a frilly pink and golden parcel on the counter. ”That will be ten Sickles and three Knuts, please…”

 

Harry turns away as Draco hands over the silver and scans the wall of tiny glass bottles with mild interest… Seems like a lot of silver for such a small amount of liquid, he thinks. But what does he know. 

 

”Ready to go?” Draco says, sidling up to him and Harry nods and as they make their way out of the shop he asks Draco if he wants to get an ice cream or something in the Tea Shop.

 

”Not if you want me to still try your treacle tart when we get back”, Draco says promptly. 

 

Instead they amble down the main street, browsing shop windows idly for a while. Harry lets his fingers brush the inside of Draco’s hand, but the blonde quickly moves out of reach and looks around warily. Swallowing a sigh, Harry shoves his hands in his pockets instead and they walk in silence for a few minutes. 

 

Suddenly, he feels Draco pinch the sleeve of his robes and pull him to the side. Frowning in confusion, Harry stumbles after him and stops next to him behind a large oak tree next to the rundown old pub The Hog’s Head.

 

”What —?”

 

But before he can finish the sentence, Draco’s hands flies up to clamp onto either side his head, the wrapped perfume bottle swinging from his wrist and hitting the side of Harry’s neck. And then Draco’s lips are pressed to his. 

 

Blinking in surprise, Harry jerks back enough to wet his lips and before he knows what’s happening, Draco is growling something softly under his breath and then licking his way into Harry’s mouth insistently. Harry’s stomach jolts and he eagerly fists the material of Draco’s robes and pulls him closer. As he sucks on Draco’s lower lip and then lets Draco massage his tongue with his own, Harry presses back and grinds their bodies together until his blood is _boiling_ under his skin… 

 

Draco pulls away with a gasp and stares down into Harry’s face in wonder, as if trying to figure out what just happened even though he’s the one who started it, Harry thinks hysterically and huffs out a breathless chuckle… Draco’s eyes are more pupil than grey… Harry licks his lips again and taking a shuddering breath, he gently pushes his hips against Draco’s again, exhilarated to feel the other boy is just as excited as him…

 

Draco swallows hard and takes a deliberate step back from him, his cheeks flaring up in a nice, rosy blush that he quickly ducks his head to hide… Harry smiles fondly and reaches out to brush the boy’s hair out of his face… 

 

”You need a haircut…” he murmurs. 

 

Draco’s gaze flickers up to meet his, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

 

”You’re one to talk…”

 

”Mine doesn’t get in my face”, Harry counters. ”And even if it did, no-one would care anyway, because I’m not half as pretty as you…”

 

”Idiot…” Draco says and smiles. 

 

They make their way back to Harry’s house as the sun begins its decline on the sky, the almost orange light making Draco’s hair glow a pale gold… Harry keeps stealing glances at him and no matter how hard i he tries, he just can’t stop smiling.

 

Remus appears in the doorway to the kitchen when they tumble in through the front door.

 

”There you are… We were about to send out a search party”, he comments lightly. ”Did you have a good time?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says, beaming. 

 

”I can tell…” his daddy murmurs, shooting him an amused look. ”What did you get up to?”

 

If Remus notice the blush in both the boys faces, he’s kind enough not to comment on it and just nods politely when Draco tells him Harry helped pick out a birthday present for his mother. 

 

”And then we just… Walked around for a while…” Harry says vaguely, sharing a small smile with Draco.

 

”Oh, is that all…? Well, after all that walking, I’m sure you must be hungry…” he says and walks back into the kitchen. ”The treacle tart is still hot and I’ve just put the kettle on…” 

 

Harry leans in and steals a quick kiss, before lacing his fingers with Draco and leading the way into the kitchen.

 

”Draco, do you prefer tea or coffee? Or chocolate?” Remus asks as he places the dessert on the table.

 

”Coffee, please…”

 

”Where’s dad?” Harry asks curiously. 

 

”He went out for some air, but he said we could start without him…” Remus says casually, taking his seat at the table and serving Draco a large slice of treacle tart. 

 

”Oh…” Harry says, his smile finally fading away. ”Did you have a fight?”

 

”No…” Remus says slowly and serves Harry an even bigger slice. ”We had a discussion, that’s all… And then he went out for some air to clear his head, so he’d realise he was wrong and I was right.”

 

Harry chuckles, ” _Daddy_ …”

 

”I’m only joking”, Remus tells Draco as an aside and smiles. 

 

Draco hesitantly smiles back, after a quick look at Harry for reassurance. Harry grins back and rolls his eyes as if to say _parents, so embarrassing…_

 

Harry and Remus both wolf down their desserts at record speed and Harry even polishes off a second helping before Draco has picked his way through his own slice, alternating between tiny little pieces and big sips of coffee to wash them down. 

 

Remus gives Harry a subtle, questioning look as the blonde is clearly struggling to finish the whole slice and watching him carefully, Harry almost feels bad and considers telling him that he doesn’t _have to_ … But stealing a look at the boy’s lithe frame he decides a few more calories won’t exactly hurt him either… 

 

”More coffee, Draco?” Remus offers kindly as Draco takes the last sip. 

 

”Yes, please… Thank you…” 

 

”You’re welcome… I’m sorry, I’m so used to Harry’s monstrous appetite”, he adds. ”You don’t have to finish the whole slice, if you’re full…”

 

Draco looks so relieved, Harry almost thinks he might start crying but he just releases a big breath and shoots Harry an apologetic look. 

 

”I don’t mind”, Harry says quickly. 

 

”It’s _really_ good”, Draco says. ”I’m just so full…”

 

”It’s fine”, Harry smiles and knocks his feet against Draco’s under the table.

 

After they’ve finished their coffee, Remus puts a protective charm on the remaining piece of the tart and tells Draco to take it home with him. Draco thanks him several times, as he and Harry walk him into the lunge. Finally Remus laughs and tells him _enough already_. 

 

”It was very nice having you over, Draco. I hope to see you again soon…”

 

”Thank— Ehm, yes…” Draco mumbles, blushing furiously. 

 

Remus reaches out and shakes his hand, then leaves him and Harry alone to say their goodbyes. Draco peers up at Harry shyly through his blonde fringe and Harry barely resists reaching out to brush it aside again. _He definitely needs a haircut_ , he thinks fondly. Biting his lip, he glances over at the doorway… He really wants to kiss Draco goodbye, but he feels awkward with his daddy in the next room. Not that his daddy would ever spy on them, but still… 

 

Draco makes the decision for him and steps into his space, placing a butterfly kiss on his mouth that sends tingles all throughout Harry’s body, right into his fingertips. 

 

”Bye…” Draco whispers with a small smile, then steps into the fireplace. 

 

”See you soon”, Harry says. 

 

Draco nods, throwing floo powder at his feet and with one last smirk at Harry through the green flames, he calls out the address of Malfoy Manor and starts revolving quickly on the spot, before he vanishes completely. 

 

As soon as the flames die down, Remus returns to the doorway. He’s still smiling, but there’s a tension around his eyes now. 

 

”Your dad will want to talk to you…” he says. ”I’m going to go upstairs. Give you some privacy.”

 

”Why…?” Harry frowns, his grin slipping off his face immediately. 

 

”Because your dad asked for it”, Remus says. ”I just sent Hedwig to get him, he’ll only be a minute… Why don’t you have another cup of coffee while you wait for him?”

 

”Okay…” Harry mumbles. 

 

Remus gives him another pinched smile and disappears from the door again. Harry doesn’t know what to believe. His dad has never asked to talk to him alone before. If anything, his dad usually prefers to let his daddy deal with all talks, being a self-proclaimed _doer, not a talker_ and almost proudly rubbish at dealing with anything too sentimental… Remus always says it’s his way of staying _macho_ , whatever that means… 

 

Harry walks out into the kitchen and resumes his seat at the table as he waits, but he doesn’t have to wait long. Sirius walks in after only five minutes, looking a little windswept and smiling widely, but there’s a tension around his eyes too and it only sets Harry’s stomach into tighter knots. 

 

”Hey, Harry…” he says and collapses in the chair opposite him. ”Did you have a good day with Draco?”

 

Harry blinks apprehensively, then nods. 

 

”Good. That’s good… And ehh… Did you and Draco talk…?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly. ”I mean… What do you mean?”

 

”Did you _talk_?” Sirius asks again. 

 

”Yeah we talked, of course we talked, what’d you expect—?”

 

”I mean, did you talk about what his parents have decided for him?”

 

”Decided for him?” Harry repeats. 

 

”Harry… You know the Malfoys are one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain…”

 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry says. ”What’s that matter?”

 

”Well, it matters to them…” Sirius says, pulling a face that suggests he, like Harry, couldn’t give a damn about theirs or anyone’s bloodline. ”They’re traditionalists, like my family was… Which means they probably have some deal with another pureblood family in regards to Draco’s… Future…”

 

”What?” Harry says numbly. 

 

”These pureblood traditionalists, they like to… Arrange things…” Sirius says slowly, giving Harry a meaningful look. ”I’m sure they’re a lot more flexible about it nowadays, but… I’m almost certain their views on same sex relationships haven’t changed all that much since I was your age…”

 

Harry can only blink at his dad. He feels light, like he’s not really connected to his body anymore. His head feels hollow, his thoughts far away from him and not really attached to him at all anymore…

 

”It all boils down to lineage, you know, furthering the family bloodline”, Sirius explains in a much too soft voice, which makes the whole thing worse, more real. ”It’s a very pureblood-typical, _outdated_ double-standard… They don’t care who you keep company with, as long as you marry an appropriate candidate of the opposite gender and produce an heir—”

 

”What are you saying?” Harry splutters. ” _What?_ Draco will have to marry some girl in an — an — arranged marriage or something?”

 

”I don’t know”, Sirius says gently. ”That’s what I was wondering if he’d told you…”

 

”No!” Harry exclaims. ”No, he didn’t tell me that! Of course he didn’t tell me that, that’s — that’s just — absurd!”

 

”All right, calm down…”

 

”Is that why you wigged out and started asking about Pansy’s family?” Harry demands. ”Because you think Draco’s _engaged_ to her or something?”

 

Even as he says it, even as he snorts in derision at the very _idea_ of it, Harry feels a sinking sensation in his stomach as the words settle around them… _It would explain a lot_ , a traitorous voice whispers in the back of his head… _Why she’s always hanging around him, always demanding to know what he’s doing and where he’s going…_

 

Harry’s mind flashes back to that morning in the Common Room when he woke up to Pansy standing over him and screeching, demanding to know why he and Draco were sleeping together… 

 

 

_Why are you talking like you’re his girlfriend?_

 

_Draco, why are you and Harry sleeping together? Is there something you want to tell me?_

 

 

”Harry…” Sirius says and reaches out to pat the back of his hand, but Harry flinches away. ”I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to get hurt —”

 

Harry just shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, backing out of the room. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” Sirius calls after him. 

 

Harry walks inside his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him. Almost immediately there’s a knock on it. 

 

”No!” Harry yells over his shoulder. 

 

”Harry, it’s me…” his daddy’s voice murmurs from the other side. 

 

Harry says nothing. Just continues to breathe heavily, _in… out… in… out…_

 

”Harry, I’m coming in…”

 

The door swings open with a sigh behind him, but Harry refuses to turn around. He can feel his daddy’s presence like sunlight on his back and it’s a little comforting but not nearly enough.

 

”Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly. 

 

”No”, Harry says immediately. 

 

”Okay… That’s okay, we don’t have to —” 

 

Wheeling around angrily, Harry points over Remus’s shoulder, ”Why does he have to _ruin everything?_ ”

 

Remus sighs and reaches out for him. Harry stubbornly bats his hands away, but Remus grabs him again and he allows himself to pulled into the warmth of the man’s chest. 

 

”You know your dad is as tactful as a hippogriff at a dinner party”, Remus mutters. ” _But he means well…_ ”

 

”Well, he’s wrong”, Harry croaks thickly. ”Draco and Pansy are just friends.”

 

”There is not a doubt in my mind about that, Harry”, Remus says seriously. ”That boy is so in love with you, anyone can see it from a mile away…”

 

Blushing, but feeling a little better, Harry peers up into his daddy’s face. 

 

”Not dad”, he mutters. 

 

”Yes, your dad too”, Remus says. ”That’s not what he was trying to say… Come on, let’s sit down for a minute.”

 

Remus guides him over to the bed and they curl up together against the headboard, Harry leaning his head back against his daddy’s chest. Remus gently combs his fingers through his hair and brushes his thumb over the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. 

 

”When your dad and I were sixteen, he decided to tell his mother about us… At first, I think she was actually relieved to hear that he hadn’t been consorting with muggle women despite the pictures he insisted on sticking to the walls of his room…”

 

Harry tilts his head back and gives his daddy a questioning look and the man just shakes his head dismissively. 

 

”He was doing everything to annoy his parents at that time, but he also wanted to cement his different views, he put Gryffindor banners all over the room as well, and pictures of muggle women and motorcycles… He even put permanent sticking charms on them, so Walburga wouldn’t be able to tear them down when he went to Hogwarts…”

 

”Why women, though?” Harry asks. 

 

”Well, ironically enough, the idea of her son being with a muggle woman was far worse than him being with another wizard… Even someone like me.”

 

”But… _Why_?”

 

”Because of the risk of pregnancy”, Remus says simply. ”It’s like Sirius tried to explain it to you before. It’s all about blood with those families.”

 

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”So at first, I think she was relieved. But when it became clear to her that Sirius actually intended to be with me _instead_ of a witch, and not just… Well… She was furious.”

 

”What did she do?”

 

”She disowned him, threw him out of the house… We didn’t have the room, but the Potters took him in no questions asked. Sirius never saw his mother again. He claims not to care about her dying before they got a chance to reconcile, but… I don’t know… If he really didn’t care what she thought, I don’t think he would have bothered telling her about us in the first place. I think a small part of him was hoping that she’d understand, even if she didn’t approve.”

 

”But she didn’t…” Harry says, feeling his chest clench at the idea… _What would I do if dad and daddy threw me out?_

 

”No, she didn’t. Or at least she didn’t show it. She was a very proud and stubborn woman… Sirius is a lot more like her than he likes to admit. Not in his views, but he does share her temperament… Look, he’s just worried for you, Harry. That’s all. Now, we don’t know anything about the Malfoys thoughts on any of this… And frankly, speaking as your daddy, I think it’s way too soon for you and Draco to be thinking about marriage and other things _anyway…_ ”

 

”He kissed me”, Harry blurts out quietly. 

 

His smile returning at the memory and looks up to meet his daddy’s eyes. Remus smiles back and leans in to peck his forehead lovingly. 

 

”Everything will work out fine, you’ll see…” he murmurs and nuzzles Harry’s hair. 

 

 

*

 

 

Harry startles awake with a strangled scream and sits bolt upright in bed. A searing pain is shooting through his head, his scar burning… Clamping a hand to his clammy forehead and blinking tears from his eyes, Harry looks around in a panic, half-expecting to see a giant snake come lunging at him from the darkness… 

 

But no, it had just been a dream, a nightmare… _But it was so vivid…_ Harry shivers as images from the nightmare flashes in his mind; _Wormtail cowering in front of an armchair… That disembodied, cold voice…_ Harry would know that voice anywhere —

 

” _Harry—!_ ” 

 

The door to his bedroom bursts open and Harry startles again. He fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand, but before he manages to get them on his face, the familiar scent of his daddy hits him and he’s enveloped in a warm embrace. 

 

”It’s okay, pup…” he says. ”It’s okay… It was just a nightmare…”

 

Remus leans back again and begins to wipe Harry’s damp hair from his face, feeling his forehead. Harry winces in pain when he touches his still-throbbing scar.

 

”Great Merlin…” Sirius sleep-thick voice growls from somewhere behind Remus. ”You’re drenched, Harry…”

 

”He’s burning up”, Remus murmurs, gently pushing Harry’s glasses into place.

 

”I saw…” Harry shudders. ”Voldemort — I saw —”

 

Harry’s shivers grow more and more violent as the sweat cools on his body and his wet t-shirt clings to his skin. Remus gently guides his arms up over his head so that he can remove it.

 

”Pass me a dry one, Sirius”, he says quietly. 

 

Remus pushes the dry t-shirt over Harry’s head and guides him to push his arms through. Pulling the material down, Remus rubs Harry’s back swiftly to warm him up again.

 

”It was real…” Harry says and Remus hums in sympathy. ”No, you don’t understand… It wasn’t… It was different, it was like it was happening now…”

 

”Wait, what?” Remus says. ”You didn’t dream about… About Lily…?”

 

”No…”, Harry says. ”It was now, I’m sure of it, and Voldemort — Voldemort was alive, but I couldn’t see him — there were two men taking care of him, one I didn’t recognise, the other —”

 

”It was just a nightmare, Harry”, Remus says gently.

 

”Hold on, Moony”, Sirius says and crouches down next to the bed. 

 

”Sirius—”

 

” _Hold on!_ What are you saying, Harry?”

 

”There was a man, a muggle — Voldemort killed him — and he had a snake, a massive snake that he could talk to and — and — Wormtail — Wormtail was there, he was taking care of Voldemort, him and this other guy!”

 

Sirius turns to Remus with a grim look, but the other man just shakes his head. 

 

”You were dreaming, Harry…” he says again. 

 

”But my scar…” Harry gasps. ”It only hurts like this when… When he’s near…”

 

”Your… Your scar is hurting you…?” Remus asks carefully and Harry catches a flash of fear in his eyes that he quickly blinks away. 

 

”It… It was… It’s getting better now, but it was hurting when I woke up…”

 

Remus nods, caressing his forehead gently, ”I’m sure it’s nothing, Harry…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there is nothing going on between Draco and Pansy. But their parents will try an encourage them to consider dating each other in the future, just like Sirius suspects. Draco is very gay though.


	19. Harry's fourteenth birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Why don’t you invite your others friends too and we’ll make a party of it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short! x

A week before the July full moon, Sirius comes home from work with a package that he places on the kitchen table before making himself a cup of coffee. Harry looks up from his toast curiously and reaches for it. It’s wrapped in the regular, non-descript brown paper that most shops in Diagon Alley tend to favour, but the small seal stamped on the side says _”Slug & Jiggers apothecary, est. 1207”_

 

”What’s this?” he asks his dad. 

 

Sirius glances over his shoulder and gives Harry an exasperated once-over. 

 

”Is that your breakfast? Did you just get up?” 

 

”No…” Harry lies. ”What’s in the package?”

 

”It’s your daddy’s wolfsbane. Don’t break it.”

 

”I wasn’t going to break it”, Harry huffs. ”I’m not a kid…”

 

”No?” Sirius says with a teasing grin as he brings his coffee cup over to the table and plops down in the seat opposite Harry. ”When did that happen, then?”

 

Harry sticks out his tongue at him and the man lets out a bark of laughter. 

 

”Why’d you go to Slug and Jiggers for the wolfsbane?”

 

”They have it on special order for Remus and a few other customers…”

 

”Why can’t Professor Snape continue to make it for him—?”

 

”Because, Harry…” Remus says as he joins them in the kitchen. ”I’m not a Hogwarts professor anymore, so he has no obligation to help me.”

 

Remus bends down to give Sirius a quick kiss, before taking the seat next to him. 

 

”I’m sure he wouldn’t mind”, Harry says. 

 

”I’m sure he would”, Sirius mutters, but Harry and Remus both ignore him. 

 

”I’m sure he wouldn’t either, but I don’t want to put him out. It’s not an easy potion to make and he’s got enough on his plate as it is… How was work?” he asks his husband, combing his fingers through the man’s hair briefly. 

 

”It was uneventful.”

 

”That’s good…” 

 

”Says you”, Sirius mutters. ”If I’m stuck inside for another day without much to do, I’m going to go stir crazy…”

 

”I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

 

”Look, I’ve told you a thousand times, just because I’m not allowed to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s dangerous…”

 

Remus just gives him a doubtful look and turns back to Harry and asks him if he’s cleaned his room yet. Harry can see the subtle tension of fatigue around his daddy’s eyes now, one of the early signs of the transformation… Around this time tomorrow, Harry knows the man will be weak and poorly. 

 

”Well, you’ll have about four days to get it done while I’m away”, Remus mutters. 

 

”Daddy… Why don’t you just stay home?” Harry asks carefully, then looks between his dads as the two men exchange an uncomfortable glance. 

 

”Harry, we’ve been over this—”

 

”Yeah, but I don’t get it. You have the wolfsbane, so why do you have to go away?… Professor Snape explained to me how it works”, he adds quickly. ”It allows you to keep your — ehm — mental whatsits—”

 

”Faculties?” Remus guesses with a smirk. 

 

”Yeah, that one”, Harry nods. 

 

”Do you know what that means?”

 

”Yeeees…” Harry says slowly and rolls his eyes. ”Your mind stays human, it’s just your body that turns, so it’s perfectly safe…”

 

Remus looks down and nods, ”Yes, it is. I usually just curl up and sleep through the full moon.”

 

”Yeah!” Harry says. ”So why don’t you just do that here?”

 

Remus says nothing for a moment, just shifts awkwardly in his seat. Sirius watches him carefully and says nothing either, until the other man shoots him a quick glance. Then he grabs his husband’s hand, and turns to Harry.

 

”That’s a good idea, Harry and I’m sure we’ll do it that way in the future but I don’t think your daddy is quite ready for it yet…”

 

Harry frowns, ”Why?”

 

”Harry…” Remus says heavily, but trails off. 

 

”I’ll leave you alone, I promise—”

 

”No, I know, but I just don’t like the idea of transforming with you nearby—”

 

”But it’s safe—”

 

”Yes, so far I’ve been lucky enough to only receive properly brewed wolfsbane, but there is a possibility, even if it is a small one, that the brewer might have made a mistake with the batch and—”

 

”That’s just paranoid”, Harry interrupts. 

 

” _And_ … The idea of you seeing me in my wolf form makes me uncomfortable, as well”, Remus adds, avoiding his eyes. 

 

”I’ve already seen you once”, Harry reminds him. ”You were howling and everything—”

 

”Harry”, Sirius snaps.

 

”—and I wasn’t even scared of you then!” Harry finishes stubbornly. 

 

”Harry, that’s enough”, Sirius says sternly. ”Your daddy’s not ready and you have to respect that.”

 

”Fine…” Harry says heavily and slouches down in his seat. ”Can I ask one more thing though?”

 

”No—” Sirius starts, but Remus gives his hand a squeeze and he cuts himself off. 

 

”Of course you can, Harry…” 

 

”Can I become an animagus?”

 

Both his dads blink in surprise. Whatever they expected him to ask, it obviously wasn’t that. The two men exchange a look and Harry can tell his dad at least seems to like the idea.

 

”Please?” Harry adds hopefully and turns to Remus.

 

”Not before you’ve finished school”, Remus says finally.

 

”But you said it takes years”, Harry protests. ”I’ll be in my twenties by the time I’ve finished if I don’t start now!”

 

”Well, then, you’ll be in your twenties”, Remus says. ”I want you to focus on your education.”

 

”But it would be part of my education!” Harry counters, then immediately changing tactics when his daddy simply frowns at him. ”What if I promise to keep my grades up? In all my classes, including Potions and Transfiguration? And get at least two Os and three Es in my O.W.L.S? And—”

 

”Tell you what”, Remus interrupts. ”I will make you a deal… If you pass all your O.W.L.S you can start the process of becoming an animagus after that. If you don’t pass them, you will have to wait another two years until you’re of age, after which you can do whatever you want.”

 

Harry had hoped he’d be able to persuade his dads to let him start immediately, but his daddy has his stubborn face on so he knows this is the best he’ll get and nods his agreement. 

 

He gets up early the next day so that he can have breakfast with his dads before they take off. Remus hugs him goodbye and promises to be back for his birthday, then brushes a kiss over the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. 

 

After they leave, Harry takes all of Draco’s letters outside and sprawls out on the lawn. Draco has been writing him almost daily, telling him all about this little seaside town in France where he’s holidaying with his mother for the month of July and if Harry reads them chronologically it’s almost as if he’s right there with him. 

 

Harry closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth of the sun beating down on him… He can almost imagine himself on a beach in France right now, with Draco stretched out in the sand next to him. He pictures the lazy rush of waves lapping against the shore and the frantic shrieks of seagulls. Draco’s hair would be almost white from the sun, maybe his skin would be a nice cream tan instead of his usual porcelain complexion…

 

Harry smiles to himself… No, something tells him Draco’s skin doesn’t fair that well in the sun. If anything he’s more likely to burn and somehow the idea of Draco with a pink nose makes Harry smile even wider; He can just imagine the blonde compulsively rubbing a protective potion into his skin every five minutes and walking around with a frilly parasol just to give himself some shade — 

 

” _Hey, you lazy pooch…_ ” 

 

Harry opens his eyes again and squints at the doorway where his dad is lounging against the frame with a teasing grin on his face.

 

”I distinctly remember you promising your daddy you were going to clean your room…”

 

Harry props himself up on his elbows, ”What are you doing back? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

 

”They can survive without me for one day”, Sirius says with a shrug. 

 

”Dad…” Harry says in exasperation and gives the man his sternest frown. ”I’m fourteen, I don’t need constant supervision!”

 

”Yeah, I know!” Sirius says. ”Want to shoot some hoops?”

 

Harry feels a grin tug on his own lips, but stubbornly pinches them together. 

 

”You can be Keeper!”

 

”Fine…” Harry mutters and jumps to his feet. ”But I’m no good at it… I wish we had a Snitch.”

 

Something wistful comes over his dads face and Harry’s heart stutters in his chest; He knows that look. It’s the look his dad gets when he remembers his school days… More specifically, he usually gets that look whenever Harry does or says something that reminds him of James… Ducking his head, Harry quickly crouches down to redo the laces on his trainers and hopes his dad won’t say it aloud, whatever it is. But when he stands back up, the grin on his dad’s face is definitely nostalgic and Harry swallows a sigh. 

 

”James had a Snitch that he used to play with”, he says offhandedly, but the melancholic glint in his eyes betrays him. ”Stole it from Quidditch practise in our fifth year… He used to let it get a few feet away and then he’d catch it again. He had incredible reflexes.”

 

”Okay…” Harry says awkwardly. 

 

”I’m sorry I missed seeing you play, Harry… If I’d have known it’d be your only year on the team, I’d have tried calling in dead instead of sick”, he adds jokingly. 

 

”Right, well”, Harry mutters. ”Snape might let me play again this year…”

 

”If he does, I promise I won’t miss a game.”

 

”I might not be as good anymore, I haven’t played for over a year…” 

 

”You’ll be fine, it’s in your blood—!”

 

”Right”, Harry mumbles. ”So do you want to play, then?”

 

True to his word, Remus returns the night before Harry’s birthday and although he is clearly still recovering from his transformation, he stays up to cuddle with Harry and Sirius on the sofa. Sipping hot chocolate, they discuss what to do for Harry’s birthday and Harry asks if he can invite Draco over again. 

 

”Didn’t you say the Malfoys are in France?” Remus asks, petting Harry’s hair absent-mindedly.

 

”Yeah, but they get back tomorrow. So can I invite him over for lunch next week?” 

 

”Why don’t you invite your others friends too and we’ll make a party of it?” Remus suggests.

 

”Really?” Harry says excitedly. 

 

”If you want, sure…” 

 

His first birthday party! Well, with other kids, at least. One or two times when Harry was younger they’d have guests over for this birthday, but it was always friends or colleagues of his dads and never any other children, because his dads didn’t really know anyone with children Harry’s age and there weren’t any in the area where they lived either, so he never really had friends before he started Hogwarts. 

 

Why he hasn’t had a birthday party and invited his friends from there since he started school, he’s not sure. But considering both his first and second year at Hogwarts ended with a life-threatening adventures, he supposes his dads just wanted to keep him safe and all to themselves for the summer… Or maybe it just hadn’t occurred to them either. Regardless, Harry can’t be more excited about it! 

 

As soon as his dads have said good night to him and shut themselves in the master bedroom, Harry grabs a quill, an ink pot and some parchment then throws himself down on top of his bed to compose a letter to Draco telling him all about it. 

 

The next morning Harry is woken up with the traditional belting out of _Happy birthday to you_ and a symbolic breakfast in bed that they end up carrying back out into the kitchen as soon as Harry has blown out the candles on top of the cake, and of course his dads take turns commenting on how much he’s grown and how they can’t believe it. Harry just rolls his eyes and smiles as Sirius reaches out to ruffle his already messy hair. 

 

As he hops down from the bed to follow Remus out of the room, Harry nearly trips over Selina who is eagerly running figure eights between his legs, but Sirius catches him with accustomed ease and they make their way out into the kitchen together, where two long rows of birthday cards are waiting for Harry, lined up on display on his side of the table. A handfull of them have little wrapped gifts behind them as well and Harry eagerly moves down the length of the table, scanning the signatures. 

 

He’s received cards from both the Weasley family and Granger again, and also from Hagrid (fortunately unaccompanied by biting literature this time),  Colin Creevey and half the Slytherins in his own year and above, including his closest friends Seamus, Blaise and Theodore, who have all included small gifts. 

 

And then, of course, there’s a card from Draco, with both a letter and a gift attached. Ignoring all the others, Harry eagerly picks that gift up first and almost immediately drops it again. It’s a lot heavier than he expected. 

 

”The poor owl that delivered it nearly passed out”, Remus tells him. ”I gave it some water and one of Hedwig’s treats, then let it rest for a few minutes…”

 

”How heavy is it?” Sirius asks curiously and grabs it from Harry. ”Not too bad…”

 

”Give it back”, Harry says impatiently.

 

As he snatches the package out of his dad’s hand again, he almost drops it for the second time but it catches on the edge of the table and topples over with a _thump_ , sending several cards flying. 

 

Remus gathers them up with a soft sigh and puts them all in a neat stack at Harry’s elbow, before he continues setting the table for breakfast. Harry mumbles a quick _thanks_ and starts tearing the wrapping off the quite heavy gift, revealing a thick, leather bound book… 

 

Except it’s not just a book, Harry realises quickly. Because the golden inscription on the front cover isn’t a title or the name of an author, but a large illustration depicting two Quidditch players flying high in the sky, both chasing a golden Snitch and beaming… One of them has light hair, the other dark hair and round glasses… And if he squints, Harry can even make out a tiny little jagged line on that player’s forehead… _A scar shaped like a lightening bolt…_ He huffs out a chuckle… 

 

”He gave you a book?” Sirius says sceptically. 

 

”Yeah… No”, Harry says. ”I don’t think —”

 

He flips open the book eagerly to see if his hunch is true… The very first page has a drawing on it that is identical to the illustration on the front cover, except more rich in details and with a lot more depth due to the shading… Harry doesn’t know much about art, or specifically drawing, but he can tell that there is definitely some talent behind this. But then again, maybe he’s just biased. Because even though he’s never actually seen Draco with a pencil, there’s something about this drawing that reminds him of the Christmas card Draco made him three years ago which makes him certain that Draco has made this as well. 

 

Harry holds the book up and looks at the drawing from a bit more of a distance, spotting the signature at the bottom of the page for the first time; _Draco Malfoy, June 1993_

 

”Oh, wow…” Remus murmurs from behind Harry. ”Did Draco draw that? It’s really quite good…”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says, feeling oddly out of breath. 

 

”Look, Sirius…” Remus says. ”Draco made a drawing of him and Harry playing Quidditch together…”

 

The other man heaves a sigh, but pushes himself to his feet and comes to stand behind Harry’s chair next to Remus. 

 

”Oh yeah…” he says. ”Very cute… Did he make a whole book?”

 

” _No!_ ” Harry says, chuckling nervously. ”Don’t be silly —”

 

But as he starts to flick through the book, it soon becomes evident that there are drawings on every single page and they get better and better, except some are obviously done in a hurry and contain more frantic scratches than any actual shading, but those are almost more beautiful somehow… Raw in their emotion and just… _real_ , Harry thinks, pausing at one in particular that really catches his eye.

 

”That one’s a bit dark, isn’t it…” Sirius mutters.

 

Harry gives a non-commital _hm,_ because yes it _is_ dark, but there’s something about it that just draws Harry in. There’s a sadness to it, a vulnerability that is just beautiful. It’s impossible to tell if it’s meant to be him or Draco or someone else, but it’s obviously a boy, sitting curled up against a wall and with his arms curled over his bowed head. Harry can almost feel the tension in the boy’s shoulders and, even though the face is hidden and there is no possible way of telling, he’s just sure the boy is crying… Glancing down at the date at the bottom of the page, Harry’s heart stutters in his chest; _Hallowe’en 1993_

 

 _That’s the night I found Draco crying in the bathroom,_ he thinks.

 

He quickly flicks back to a page where there’s a sketch of him, in profile, sitting in a classroom and it’s dated _1st of October 1993._

 

”Oh wow…” he mumbles. ”It’s the whole year.”

 

”What’s that, pup?” Remus says, combing his fingers through his hair. 

 

”Draco, he — he drew these — one every day — all year, look, look at the dates!”

 

Harry quickly flicks through some of the book’s pages, indicating the dates at the bottom. Then lets it fall open to very last page — _7th of June 1994_ — which is a drawing of Draco himself, sitting hunched over at a desk and writing something with a quill, looking almost transparent as a ghost in the flood of sunlight streaming in through the large window in front of him. 

 

”That’s amazing, Harry…” Remus says and bends down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before walking back over to the stove to finish up breakfast. ”Are you going to open your other presents as well?”

 

”Mm, yeah, in a minute…” Harry mumbles. ”They’re really good, aren’t they? I mean, he’s really talented, isn’t he?”

 

”Yeah, very”, Remus agrees. 

 

”No, but, _really_ ”, Harry insists and looks up finally. ”Not just because it’s Draco. Wouldn’t you still think so even if you didn’t know who made them? If you saw this”, he tilts the book up, showing them a particularly detailed drawing of Harry and Seamus playing Exploding Snap in the Common Room. ”Framed on a wall somewhere, or in a book, and you had no idea who’d made it, wouldn’t you still think it was really good?”

 

”Yes, Harry”, Remus says slowly. ”I think they’re really good. _Really._ ”

 

”They’re okay”, Sirius says, then lets out a bark of laughter at Harry’s sharp look. ”I’m kidding! They’re good!”

 

”I can’t believe he made one every day, all that time… We weren’t even talking”, Harry says. ”I thought he hated me!”

 

”I’m glad it all worked out”, Remus says. ”Now clear the table please, so we can eat.”

 

Harry and Remus spend the entire afternoon planning the party, or rather Remus plans the party and Harry agonises over the guest list, unsure whether he should invite Ron and the twins or not… He’d really like to, but he knows Draco won’t be too pleased if he invites Ron, and he can’t very well invite the twins and not invite Ron as well… _That’s a good point_ , he thinks to himself. _Maybe if I invite Ron and the twins, I should invite Ginny as well_. 

 

He really doesn’t fancy having the Weasley girl at his party. She’d cooled down considerably the previous year compared to the one before, but Harry still gets flash backs of a red-faced dwarf dressed like Cupid singing about his eyes being _the colour of a freshly pickled toad_ whenever he sees the girl, and he really wouldn’t feel comfortable having her in his home. The twins on the other hand would be awesome to have around, and Ron too if Draco didn’t get so bent out of shape around him… 

 

Finally, when he still hasn’t come to a decision and it’s almost time for supper, Harry decides to ask his daddy for advice. 

 

”I think you should invite whomever you want”, Remus says simply. 

 

Harry slumps over his empty guest list with a sigh. 

 

”All right…” Remus says. ”Why don’t you just invite your closest friends from Slytherin?”

 

”So you don’t think I should invite the Weasleys?” Harry asks uncertainly. 

 

”If you really think it’s going to make Draco feel uncomfortable to have Ron at the party, I think it might be a better idea not to… If anyone asks, you can just tell them your dad and I wanted to keep it small and intimate.”

 

Harry nods, feeling strangely relieved over not having to make the decision himself. 

 

”I doubt anyone will ask though”, he says and starts jotting down Seamus’s name on top of the list. ”They all think I’m weird for even saying hello to the Gryffindors, so…”

 

”Don’t worry, they’ll start talking to people from the other houses before long…”

 

”You think?”

 

”That’s what happened when I was at school”, Remus tells him. ”Towards the end of fifth year people started making friends in other houses, I remember… Not so much the Slytherins, actually, now that I think about it, except for… Well…”

 

”What?” Harry says curiously. 

 

”Nothing”, Remus says and shakes his head dismissively. ”Anyway. That was just our year. I’m sure it will be different for you. I mean, it already is, isn’t it? You already have friends in Gryffindor, don’t you?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says. ”Kind of, I guess. But I’m half-Gryffindor too…”

 

”Well…” Remus says vaguely and combs his fingers through Harry’s hair with a smile. 

 

”Daddy, did you have any friends in Slytherin?”

 

”No, not… exactly… I mean, I was friendly with most people, including the Slytherins.”

 

”Were you friendly with Professor Snape?”

 

”Sure”, Remus says breezily. ”Now, finish that list so we can get those invitations out.”

 

”I’m done!” Harry says and waves the guest list in front of his daddy’s face until the man plucks it from him. 

 

”This is it?” he asks with a frown. 

 

”You said to invite my closest friends!”

 

”Yeah, I know… But…”

 

”In Slytherin!”

 

”Yeah, I know what I said, Harry. But I was expecting at least _five_ guests. Are you sure you don’t want to invite anyone else?”

 

”I guess I can invite the Quidditch team…”

 

”What about the rest of your year?”

 

”I’m _not_ inviting Pansy!” Harry says with a burst of passion that makes Remus raise an eyebrow at him. 

 

”That’s fine, but aren’t there any more boys in your year? I really think you should invite everyone from your dorm at least, or it might get awkward when school starts…”

 

”Ugh…” Harry moans. ”Do I have to?”

 

”No, you don’t _have to_ ”, Remus mutters. ”I just think it might be a good idea.”

 

”What’s a good idea?” Sirius asks loudly as he strides into the room and hops up to sit on top of the kitchen counter, but quickly hops down again when Remus gives him a sharp look. 

 

”For Harry to invite all the Slytherin boys in his year.”

 

”That’s your definition of a good idea?” 

 

”Sirius…”

 

”What? Fine… Who don’t you want to invite, Harry?”

 

”Crabbe and Goyle”, Harry mumbles. ”They’re thick and mean, and we’ve said maybe three words to each other since we got Sorted…”

 

”Fine…” Remus says in exasperation. ”You don’t have to invite them. Just… Invite the Quidditch team and then that’ll be it.”

 

”Flint too?” Harry says sceptically. 

 

”Or don’t”, Remus snaps and lifts his hands in defeat. ”Four guests is fine!”

 

”Great!” Harry says with a grin. 

 

Harry sends Hedwig with the invitations immediately and then starts helping Remus plan the menu. Much like the time they had Draco over for lunch, they end up indecisive over what to make and finally decide to make a little bit of everything including two different flavoured cakes and a considerable assortment of biscuits and other desserts. 

 

”How many are coming again?” Sirius asks, frowning at the massive spread of foods on the kitchen table and counter on the morning of the party. 

 

”Harry is really getting the hang of this!” Remus says proudly, ignoring his husband’s question even as he curls his arm around his waist and leans in for a quick kiss. 

 

”Yeah?” Sirius murmurs, chasing the other man’s lips as soon as he leans back again and steals a second peck. 

 

”You guys…” Harry groans. ”Impressionable youth in the room!”

 

Sirius lets out an amused snort and immediately snakes his arm around Remus shoulders and tips him back, muffling the other man’s startled yelp with searing kiss. 

 

” _Dad_ —!” Harry cries and smacks his hands over his eyes, and doesn’t remove them again until he hears both his dads start laughing. 

 

”Yeah, he’s really quite talented”, Remus says, smoothly steering the conversation back on track. ”Must be all those Potions lessons…”

 

”I quite love cooking”, Harry admits, eager to change the subject back as well. ”It’s even more fun than Potions though, because the worst thing that will happen if I don’t follow the recipe exactly is that it might taste a little differently so there’s really no pressure… Plus you get to taste what you’ve made after you’re done!”

 

”Yes, well”, Remus mutters good-naturedly. ”If you taste any more, there won’t be anything left for your guests… Speaking of which, they should be here soon, so why don’t you go get yourself ready while I finish up here?”

 

”Okay!” Harry says and darts out of the kitchen. 

 

He takes a quick a quick bath and makes a sloppy attempt to tame his damp-yet-still-inexplicably-wild hair, before running out of the bathroom and skidding to a halt inside his bedroom, where he ignores the dress robes his daddy has laid out for him on the bed and dresses instead in a pair of trousers and a casual button down shirt. 

 

He’s not surprised to see that Seamus and Theodore have also chosen to go with a casual attire, nor is he surprised to see both Blaise and Draco decked out in the smartest of dress robes. Probably not by choice at all, Harry guesses, knowing both boys’ families are a lot more strict about things like etiquette than either Seamus’ or his own, and probably Theodore’s as well. Also, both boys have found their own subtle ways of revolting to said etiquette, if you look a little closer… Blaise’s collar is unbuttoned at the top and he’s wearing shoes in the wrong shade, whereas Draco’s entire outfit is immaculate but his hair hangs freely in his face, his fringe just slightly too long… Harry’s stomach flutter as soon as he sees him and those steel grey eyes flicker over to meet his from underneath what can only be described as a delicate curtain of pearly-blonde hair. 

 

The boys spend a good two hours eating their way through the small feast Harry and Remus have prepared, then move out into the back garden for a game of Quidditch. Theodore insists Harry and Draco be on opposite teams, as they’re the ones with actual Quidditch match experience and it would be unfair on the other team if they teamed up. 

 

”Not really”, Harry argues. ”We’re both Seekers and we haven’t got a Snitch, so…”

 

”Yeah but you’ve still been on an actual Quidditch team and practised it on a regular basis!”

 

”I haven’t played for over a year—”

 

”Just leave off, Harry!” Theodore snaps. ”You’re on different teams, deal with it!”

 

”Fine…” Harry mutters and rolls his eyes. ”I don’t even care, anyway…”

 

Seamus lets out a derisive snort, but just shakes his head when Harry shoots him a sharp look. 

 

”Or…” Blaise says slowly. ”Seeing as we’re an uneven number, why don’t we let the birthday boy play with his teammate of choice and the three of us team up?”

 

”Oh, yeah, that’s fair!” Draco says. 

 

”I think so”, Blaise grins. ”Quality versus quantity, old chap!”

 

”I’m fine with that”, Seamus says and shrugs. 

 

”I’m not!” Draco says. ”What, you’re going to have a Beater on your team? Or two Keepers?”

 

”No, Seamus and Theodore will both be Chasers and I’ll be Keeper”, Blaise suggests. ”That’s the most fair.”

 

”It’s _not_ fair though”, the blonde insists. ”They’ll be able to pass the Quaffle to each other. Harry won’t stand a chance!”

 

”Then what do you suggest, Draco?” Harry asks. 

 

”We take _turns_!” Draco says with a eye roll that speaks volumes. 

 

”All right”, Harry nods. ”Let’s do that, then!”

 

Theodore immediately opens his mouth, presumably to protest, but Seamus swiftly elbows him in the stomach and he doubles over with a gasp. 

 

”Let’s do it!” Seamus exclaims happily. ”Nott, you’re on the bench!”

 

The others exchange confused looks. 

 

”What bench?” Blaise says.

 

”Sorry that’s a muggle football term”, Seamus says. ”It means he sits out until one of his teammates wants to switch.”

 

”Okay”, Harry says. ”Theo, you okay with that?”

 

”Yes…” the other boy mutters, sending a glare in Seamus direction as he sits down crosslegged in the grass, still rubbing his tummy. 

 

As it turns out, it’s a very close match. Draco is very quick and with only the one hoop he should be able to save the Quaffle from going through it every time, but halfway through the match Seamus discovers his weakness… If he throws the Quaffle as hard as he can and aims it _straight at_ Draco, the blonde will instinctively swerve to the side or duck in order to avoid being hit, allowing the Quaffle to shoot through the hoop behind him. Harry would be exasperated, and even annoyed with his teammate, if he didn’t look so adorably ruffled and abashed when he repositioned himself in front of the hoop, blushing a vivid pink and swatting his fringe out of his eyes. 

 

Even after Seamus has figured out how to score on Draco they’re still fairly evenly matched though, since Blaise hasn’t been on a broomstick since their flying lessons with Madam Hooch in first year and Harry can easily feint and get him to swerve to one side and then swiftly turn and score before the other boy has even managed to get his broom to change directions. 

 

When they’ve been playing for about forty minutes, Sirius and Remus come outside to watch them and settle down in the grass next to Theodore. 

 

”Why aren’t you playing?” Harry can hear Sirius ask the boy. 

 

”I’m on the bench”, he replies seriously. 

 

Harry tucks the Quaffle under his arm and swerves around in time to see his dads exchange a confused look. 

 

”What bench?”

 

”It means I’m sitting out, because we’re an uneven number of players.”

 

”Oh…” Sirius says and looks up at Harry, catching his eye. ”Need another player?”

 

”Are you any good?” Draco calls out from his position in front of his and Harry’s hoop. 

 

”Well, I can hardly be worse than you, now can I?” Sirius calls back and even though he grins good-naturedly to show he’s teasing, Draco’s cheeks immediately light up in a furious flush. 

 

”It might be fun to have two Chasers”, Harry says. ”What do you guys think?”

 

”Sure”, Blaise and Seamus answer in unison. 

 

They resume the match with Sirius joining Blaise and Seamus team, on Blaise insistence, and Theodore joining Harry and Draco but not as a second Chaser, because Draco has finally had enough of Seamus pelting him with Quaffles and the thought of Sirius joining in is apparently too much for him, so he insists Theodore switch with him… Which is how, even with Sirius on the opposing team, Harry and Draco end up winning the match… 

 

”That was actually amazing to watch”, Remus tells Harry as they all land and start to make their way over to the house again for cake. ”You and Draco are really in sync with each other, it’s incredible…”

 

Harry can only beam in response, because he doesn’t possess the proper words to decribe all the amazing feelings filling him to the brim right now. Flying was what really brought him and Draco together as first years and to this day, being on his broom, swerving and swirling through the air with Draco, is the one place where he feels completely at ease and happy, and whatever else might be going on in his life just fades away while they’re flying together… It might be childishly naive of him, but Harry thinks Voldemort himself could come back and he’d be able to forget all about it for as long as he and Draco is in the air…

 

Remus curls his arm around his shoulders and steer him towards the doorway where the others have already disappeared, then guides him over to his seat at the table before lighting the fourteen candles on top of one of the cakes with a quick flick of his wand. 

 

”Don’t forget to make a wish!”

 

Smiling, Harry leans forward and inhales a big breath… His eyes flicker over to Draco in the seat opposite and lock with his steel grey ones for a split second, his stomach fluttering as the blonde’s lips twitch, and Harry feels himself smile back, wider and happier than he probably should… _After all, you’re not meant to reveal your wish…_ And he blows out his candles in one strong rush of breath to the smatter of indulgent applause from his his friends and dads. 

 

After they’ve all stuffed themselves with enough cake to feed all of Hogwarts, Seamus demands a re-match and they all make their way out into the garden again and play Quidditch until the sun starts to single down to the horizon, the sky flaring up in orange all around them… Seamus’ mum and Theodore’s dad show up to take them home, but settle down in the grass next to Remus to watch the end of the match first. Harry scores the last point for his, Theodore’s and Draco’s team and recieves a small round of applause and whoops from the tiny audience on the ground. 

 

They all touch down on the ground and Harry shakes hands with Mr Nott and Mrs Finnigan just as Remus reappears leading Mrs Blaise out into the garden and Harry walks over to shake her hand as well before she Side-Along Disapparates with Blaise. 

 

”See you at school, Harry!” Seamus yells happily while gripping his mother’s hand tightly, getting ready to Disapparate as well.

 

”See you in a month!” Harry calls back and waves at him. 

 

As Mrs Finnigan turns swiftly on the spot and Disapparates with Seamus, Harry feels something brush against the side of his arm and quickly turns his head. Draco’s grey eyes peer back at him from underneath that curtain of white-blonde hair. 

 

”I had a lovely time”, he murmurs softly and Harry’s stomach flutters. 

 

”I’m glad”, he says, just as softly. 

 

Fingertips graze against his palm suddenly and his fingers twitch, but he doesn’t look down. Draco blinks slowly, his long lashes brushing against his fringe and Harry feels his smile soften. Draco’s long, slender fingers slide into the spaces between Harry’s own and curls around his hand. Harry mirrors the gesture and squeezes gently.

 

Draco leans in and brushes a feathery kiss over Harry’s mouth, then smirks playfully as he leans back again and Harry follows, as if pulled magnetically to Draco’s lips. 

 

”Tease…” Harry mutters in mock annoyance and Draco giggles. 

 

”Draco!” Narcissa Malfoy calls from the doorway behind them. ”Time to go!” 

 

Draco lets go of Harry’s hand again and backs a few steps slowly, ”Happy birthday, Harry… See you at the Manor in a few days?”

 

”Try and stop me!” Harry says lightly. 

 

Draco’s smile widens happily, before he spins around and runs over to his mother. Narcissa inclines her head politely at Harry and he waves back, then stays where he is in the middle of the lawn and watches as Narcissa ushers Draco in front of her and disappears into the house to floo back to the Manor.

 

Harry keeps watching the empty doorway for a while, just soaking up the moment, and doesn’t budge from his spot until Remus appears in the doorway and smiles back at him. 

 

Harry runs over and wraps his arms around his waist and snuggles close. Remus burrows his nose into the crook of his neck and inhales deeply, returning the embrace.

 

”Did you have a good day, pup?” 

 

”The best!” Harry says, his happy voice muffled by Remus’s shirt front.

 


	20. The Quidditch World Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry joins the Malfoys at the Quidditch World Cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to make a small edit since the first time posting this...

Harry has barely stopped spinning inside the fireplace at Malfoy Manor when he’s knocked backwards by a very excited Draco and he staggers back with a giggle as the blonde throws his arms around him.

 

”You’re here!” he exclaims happily. 

 

”I’m here!” Harry laughs and hugs him back. 

 

”Mother has made up one of the guestrooms for you…” Draco says quietly. ”But it’s on the same floor as mine, so I can sneak out to see you after they’ve gone to bed… I mean… If you want”, he adds shyly, blushing a pretty pink and Harry grins. ”What?”

 

”Nothing…” Harry says and continues to smile widely. ”I _do_ want…”

 

Draco’s blush deepens slightly, but his lips twitch. 

 

”Come on, before they come to investigate what’s taking us so long…”

 

They make their way across the ballroom-style lounge and into what Harry remembers to be the dining room, Draco letting go of his hand just outside the doors before they enter side by side, and Harry stares in amazement at the long table that’s been set for dinner and the small feast that has been laid out by whatever house-elf that’s resplaced the one Harry tricked Mr Malfoy into setting free, and marvels at the massive centrepiece in the middle of the table. 

 

Narcissa comes swooping inside the room from another doorway and smiles serenly at him as she inclines her head in greeting. Harry quickly mirrors the gesture and smiles back, if a little hesitantly. Although Mrs Malfoy has never been anything but nice to him, something about the witch makes him feel very uncomfortable. Probably because he can’t seem to read her and therefore has no idea what the woman is thinking, and more specifically what she thinks of _him_ … 

 

 _But_ , Harry thinks wrily as Lucius Malfoy comes striding in through yet another doorway, _she’s an absolute delight compared to her husband…_

 

Lucius and Harry eye each other tensely for a second. 

 

”Mr Potter”, the older wizard says finally in a politely neutral tone of voice as he too inclines his head. ”It’s… nice… to see you again.”

 

”Yes, very nice”, Narcissa says pleasantly and more or less flutters over to the table and into one of the seats where she busies herself with unfolding a large napkin shaped like a swan and placing it into her lap. 

 

”You too”, Harry says and tries to sound like he means it. ”Thank you for having me, and for inviting me to come to the World Cup—”

 

”Of course, we’re delighted to have you!” Narcissa says. ”Draco, darling, do show Harry to his seat…”

 

Draco springs to action as if scolded and gently pushes Harry towards one of the seats at the table, before taking the one next to him, opposite his mother… _Which means,_ Harry thinks with dawning dread, _Lucius will be sitting opposite me…_ No sooner has the thought entered Harry’s head than the older wizard swoops down into the chair opposite and smirks coolly at him. Harry forces his lips to widen into what he _hopes_ will look like a smile and not a grimace, then quickly looks away and tries to focus on Draco instead.

 

Maybe it’s because he’d imagined so much worse, but the dinner turns out to be quite pleasant. Harry isn’t even aware of any tension at all, until he’s halfway through replying to one of Narcissa’s polite, standard questions and he notices the woman’s gaze flit away from him before narrowing at something in front of Draco on the table… Harry trails off and follows her line of sight to Draco’s plate and catches him move his food around idly, as is his custom. 

 

”Draco!” Narcissa says sharply. 

 

Both boys jump. Draco immediately straightens in his chair and speers a piece of broccoli that he puts in his mouth and starts to chew quickly.

 

Narcissa’s gaze flickers over to Harry briefly before fixing on Draco’s face again. 

 

”Need I remind you of the agreement we made at the beginning of the summer?” she asks quietly.

 

”No, Mother”, Draco replies. 

 

”Good… Harry, do forgive my rudeness”, she adds pleasantly and gives him one of her small smiles. ”Please continue…”

 

The rest of the dinner is uneventful but far from relaxed, even if all three Malfoys are skilled at pretending, which Harry soon realises and he finally understands what the the lack of tension he’d noticed earlier is really about… 

 

After they’ve finished eating, or rather after Draco has finally finished eating — Harry and Narcissa keeping him company at the table as he forces the last morsels down, Narcissa’s hawk eyes on him the whole time — Draco walks Harry to the guestroom down the corridor from his own bedroom and says good night to him at the door. Harry gives him a small smile. 

 

”Good night. See you in the morning…”

 

He gets his pyjamas out of his rucksack and changes in to them before quickly sliding beneath the covers of the bed. He lies awake for a long while, listening intently… The door slides open behind his back and he holds his breath… 

 

” _Lumos_ ”, Narcissa’s voice whispers and then after a small pause she adds, ” _Nox._ ”

 

The door slides shut again and Harry turns over to his back and stares up at the ceiling. He’s just beginning to drift off when the soft creak of the door reaches him for a third time and he blinks his eyes open again. 

 

He feels rather than sees Draco slip into the bed next to him. 

 

”Hey…” he whispers. 

 

”Hey yourself”, Draco whispers back and Harry can almost hear the smirk in his voice. ”Did I wake you? I just wanted to say good night properly…”

 

” _Properly?_ ” Harry repeats teasingly. ”No, you didn’t wake me… I was hoping you’d come and, you know…”

 

”Yeah?” the blonde whispers. 

 

Harry feels the warm gust of his breath hit the side of his mouth and realises the other boy must have leaned in closer. Concentrating on keeping his head as still as possible, he swallows thickly and peers out into the darkness, trying to make out the other boy’d face… Suddenly a nose bumps against his cheek and he flinches instinctively, but then there are fingertips grazing through his hair and curling around the back of his head, holding him in place. 

 

He wets his lips in anticipation and holds his breath as he waits… His heart is beating so hard, he’s sure Draco must be able to hear it… Suddenly soft lips brush against his own and it sends tingles all through his body. His fingers twitch uncertainly, unsure of whether it’s okay for him to reach out, to grab, to —

 

The lips brush against him again, firmer and more insistent this time. Harry presses back and gently dabs at Draco’s bottom lip with his tongue, teasing his mouth open… Draco’s breath hitches. His fingers fist the hair at the back of Harry’s head and pulls him in as his swirls his own tongue around Harry’s eagerly. 

 

Suddenly desperate for closeness, Harry flings his arm out and grabs at the first part of the other boy’s body that he can reach, which turns out to be the lean upper part of his arm and he kneads it briefly, before letting his hand travel further up, along the shoulder and then curls it around the slender neck, as he wiggles his hips closer, closer, searching for friction… He slips his leg in-between Draco’s and an unmistakable hardness is suddenly pressed against his thigh. Heart stuttering in his chest, Harry carefully presses back… The other boy jerks his head back with a gasp, and they both freeze, panting heavily and still clutching each other…

 

”Oh…” Draco whispers and there’s a strangled quality to his voice that does all sorts to wicked things to Harry and he can barely stop himself from grinning. 

 

”S-Sorry…” he whispers. ”Too fast?”

 

”I… I don’t know…” Draco whispers, his fingers relaxing in Harry’s hair and fluttering down his neck to rest over his heart instead. ”Yeah, maybe… Or not too fast, but… If my parents…”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”I get it…”

 

”Remember it took mother a year to convince father to let me be friends with you again… I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do if they catch us… catch us doing anything… anything—”

 

”Overly friendly?”

 

Draco huffs in amusement, but doesn’t say anything else. Harry wonders if maybe he’d nodded, but it’s impossible for Harry to make anything out in the darkness of the room, especielly since he’s not even wearing his glasses.

 

”I should probably go back to my room”, Draco says after another moment’s silence. ”We have to get up in a few hours.”

 

”Yeah… Can you believe we’re going to the Quidditch World Cup tomorrow? It’s going to be so awesome!”

 

”I know”, Draco gushes, his excitement spilling over. 

 

”Okay, well”, Harry says decisively and leans in for a quick kiss before giving the other boy a gentle shove in the chest. ”Good night.”

 

”Pushy…” Draco grumbles and leans back in for two quick pecks. ”G’night… See you soon!”

 

Harry stares wistfully at the silhouette in the doorway before it disappears and the room is bathed in darkness once more. He sighs happily to himself and lets his eyes fall shut, re-playing the kisses in his mind’s eye until he finally succumbs to sleep. 

 

”Harry! Harry! Wake up, sleepy-head, it’s time! _It’s time!_ ”

 

”Whaaa…” Harry grumbles. 

 

Squinting his eyes open, Harry’s discovers the room to be flooded with pale light from the large windows and realises it must already be morning. He peers up at the blonde, blurry blob hovering above him and shaking his shoulder mercilessly.

 

”It’s time to get up! We’re going to the World Cup, _let’s go!_ ” Draco exclaims excitedly. 

 

Harry sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, but none of Draco’s features come into focus until he finds his glasses. The blonde is beaming back at him by the time he’s put them on, and then he starts to giggle. 

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

”Your hair…” Draco says and shakes his head. ”It’s just impossible, isn’t it?” 

 

”Oh… Yeah…” Harry mutters and attempts to flatten it with one of his hands. 

 

”Well, never mind that”, Draco says and grabs the hand in his and starts to pull on it insistently. ”Breakfast is ready and father has said we need to leave in half an hour—”

 

” _Half an hour?_ But that’s ages—!” Harry protests feebly, stumbling out of bed as the other boy keeps pulling on him. 

 

”Don’t be ridiculous. You need time to get ready—”

 

”I really don’t…” Harry says, but shuffles after the blonde obediently anyway. 

 

”Such a brute”, Draco mutters and finally lets go of his hand as they descend the stairs to get to the dining room. 

 

” _Tired_ brute…” Harry counters. 

 

Breakfast promises to be a tense affair, much like the second half of the dinner the night before, but Harry thinks he might be too sleepy to be bothered by it. That is, until Draco gets into a hushed argument with his mother over eating breakfast and insists he can’t travel on a full stomach or he’ll get sick, and Narcissa finally agrees to let him skip breakfast and go get ready, on the condition that he eats something once they get there… Now, Harry is happy as long as Draco is happy, but he really wishes the blonde would stay at the table and keep him company while he eats breakfast at least. As it is, the blonde dashes out of the dining room again, to go take bath or something, and Harry is left to share the tense silence with Mr and Mrs Malfoy. He’s never felt quite as uncomfortable before in his life. 

 

Luckily the moment is short-lived and soon they’re all filing out of the large front doors of the Manor and, heading past the massive wrought-iron gates, they continue along a long hedge-lined driveway. Harry, who have only seen the rose garden at the back of the Manor previously, looks around in mild curiousity and blinks in surprise as a pearly-white peacock suddenly flaps down on top of one of the hedges and lets out a high-pitched caw. 

 

”Father…” Draco says carefully. ”Where exactly are we going?”

 

”Portkey point”, Lucius replies shortly.

 

One glance at the younger Malfoy’s face tells Harry he’d known that already but had wanted to know more specifically where that is, and how far they have to walk. But Draco doesn’t elaborate, just pinches his lips together and trudges on in silence. Harry suspects he must have learned quite early on that his father has little patience for questions. 

 

”Why don’t we Apparate?” Harry asks, but he makes sure to direct the question at Narcissa. 

 

”Apparation doesn’t agree with Draco’s tummy”, she tells him. 

 

”Mother…” Draco mutters, blushing a subtle pink.

 

Harry gentle knocks his shoulder against the other boy’s and gives him a small smile, ”I hate apparating too…”

 

They walk for a good twenty minutes until they finally reach a small hill where the weirdest man, woman and child Harry has ever seen are already waiting next to a chipped tea cup. The man is wearing a pair of casual trousers in an odd, rough material rather like tweed but smoother and bright blue, an oversized jumper with big writing across the chest and a hood attached to the collar and on top of his head, the only normal piece of his outfit, he’s jammed a traditional bowler hat. The woman at his side, who at first glance had appeared to be wearing regular robes, is in fact wearing a long, checkered skirt on her bottom half and what appears to be another skirt, only with a floral pattern, on her top half. Between them, half hidden behind her mother’s skirts, stands a young girl wearing a one-piece pyjamas. Harry wonders if the whole family might have escaped from St. Mungos…

 

”I say, Lucius…” the wizard says as they approach them. ”Didn’t you hear, we’re supposed to be incognito and dress in muggle attire?”

 

 _Oh, that explains it,_ Harry thinks and feels a bit better about getting closer to the family.

 

Both Mr and Mrs Malfoy give the shorter man a withering look, but neither respond to his question. Lucius withdraws a pocket watch from inside his robes and checks the time. 

 

”Good morning Barnaby. Philemina. Are we waiting for anyone else?” he asks coolly. 

 

”No, the Greengrasses didn’t get tickets…” the short man says with grin. 

 

”Is that Daphne’s family?” Harry asks Draco under his breath and the blonde nods, then shoots him a suspicious look. ”Just asking… Do they live around here as well?”

 

”Yes”, Draco says shortly. 

 

Harry rolls his eyes and hisses quietly, ”I’m not interested in Daphne, so stop scowling!”

 

”And who’s this young lad you’ve brought with you, Lucius?” the man, Barnaby, says loudly and Harry quickly whips his head back around and gives him a polite smile. ”Dark hair like that, I daresay he’s not a relative…”

 

”No”, Lucius says in a clipped tone and glares down at his pocket watch again.

 

”Harry here is a friend of our son Draco’s”, Narcissa supplies with one of her serene nods. ”They go to school together.”

 

”Not Harry _Potter?_ ” the woman asks curiously, leaning in to peer at Harry’s forehead. 

 

”The same”, Narcissa confirms, her nostrils flaring slightly as she stares at the other woman who’s nose is now uncomfortably close to Harry’s own and he staggers back from her. 

 

”Oh-ho…” Barnaby says and rocks back on his heels, shooting Lucius a teasing grin. ”Who would have thought it, eh, Lucius…”

 

”Quite”, Lucius says coldly. ”I think it’s time… Everyone gather round… _Draco!_ Come here, next to me—”

 

Draco just has time to grab Harry’s hand before Lucius grabs his and pulls him roughly to his side. They all crowd around the tea cup and with some awkward contorting, manage to bend over it and place each of their index fingers along the chipped brim. 

 

Suddenly it happens. Harry feels like an invisible hook has latched onto his belly button and pulled him violently forward. The grassy hill top disappears from underneath his feet and the whole world spins around him until it’s all just a big swirl of colours. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, feeling like he’s going to be sick… _This is even worse than Apparating,_ he thinks desperately. 

 

Then, just as suddenly, his feet slams into solid ground again and his index finger that had been magically stuck to the brim of the tea cup, flies loose and he topples over, sprawling on the ground. Squinting in the morning light, he notices Draco has fallen on the ground next to him but the grown-ups have managed to stay on their feet. 

 

”Ten past seven from Wiltshire”, a drawling voice says from somewhere behind Harry. 

 

Climbing to his feet, he turns around to see a very exhausted-looking wizard look up from a large gold watch and stoop down to pluck the tea cup from the ground and toss it in a large box of other used Portkeys. Another wizard, just as tired-looking as the first, if not more so, scribbles something on roll of parchment. 

 

”Malfoy…” he says in a disinterested drone. ”Your campsite is located a quarter of a mile’s walk over there. The first field you come to. Site manager’s name is Mr Rogers…”

 

”Thank-you”, Lucius says breezily. 

 

He stalks off in the direction of the campsite without a word of goodbye to their fellow travellers and Narcissa immediately gestures for Harry and Draco to follow him, also without acknowledging the other family. Harry glances at them over his shoulder and gives them a pinched smile in parting, but then hurries to catch up with the Malfoys. 

 

All four of them walk briskly across the moor, the last traces of mist slithering around their ankles. Harry can see a small stone cottage up ahead and a muggle man, that must be Mr Roberts, is standing just outside the door, gazing out across the many tents cramped together on the campsite.

 

At the sound of their approaching footsteps, Mr Roberts turns around and squints at them. Lucius stops abruptly, and Harry can see his black gloved hand tighten on the silver top of his walking stick before he suddenly turns around and hisses to his wife, ”Will you deal with the muggle?”

 

Narcissa’s eyelids seem to droop slightly, as if the question has tired her, but other than that she gives no indication that she has even heard her husband speak. But after a tense second’s silence in which the two simply stare at each other, she takes a deep breath and strides over to the now rather suspicious-looking Mr Roberts. 

 

”Good morning”, she greets him coolly. ”We have a reservation in the name of Malfoy.”

 

”Mal- _foy_?” the muggle repeats, his eyes narrowing further. ”That’s a funny name…”

 

”Excuse me?” Narcissa says coldly. 

 

”A lot of funny people showing up here recently… Foreigners and weirdos… You look all right enough, I suppose, all things considered…” he trails off, giving Narcissa’s robes a once-over. 

 

” _Excuse me…_ ” Lucius says coldly. 

 

”What?” Mr Roberts says. ”You think I’m kidding? You should see some of these crackpots… They’re wearing all sorts of weird clothes and…”

 

”Yes, thank you”, Narcissa says swiftly. ”If I could just pay…”

 

”Oh, right”, Mr Roberts says. ”Just the one night, is it?”

 

”Yes…” Narcissa says slowly and holds out a couple of paper squares that Harry realises must be muggle money when Mr Roberts takes them from her and starts muttering about change. ”That’s quite all right, keep it. Now, if you could just point us in the direction of our allotted space…”

 

”I’ll give you your change”, Mr Roberts mutters with a glare. ”But you’re over there, just by those trees…”

 

”Thank you”, Narcissa says shortly. 

 

She turns away when the man holds out a fistful of small coins and ushers Draco in front of her towards the trees and Harry hurries to keep up with them. 

 

When they reach the tree line, Lucius pulls out their tent from his pocket and unshrinks it before assembling the pieces and raising it with a few swift wand movements. Narcissa gestures for Harry and Draco to enter the tent first and Harry eagerly looks around. The main area of the tent reminds him slightly of the ballroom at Malfoy Manor, minus the massive chandelier in the ceiling. He can see one doorway leading to what must be the kitchen and then three other doors, presumably leading to the bedrooms. He turns to smile at Draco, who doesn’t look as impressed by the surroundings, but returns Harry’s smile readily enough. 

 

”Want to go explore the campsite?” Harry says eagerly.

 

”Yeah!” Draco says, getting excited as well. ”And let’s go buy some souverniers!”

 

”Boys…” Narcissa says, stopping them in their tracks. ”Make sure to be back here for lunch in an hour. Draco, I’m serious… You didn’t have any breakfast, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

 

”Yes, mother”, Draco sighs. 

 

”You won’t believe it”, Lucius hisses as he storms inside the tent. ”The Weasleys! In the tent next to  ours, I mean literally _next to us!_ ”

 

”It’s all right, Lucius… We’ll just stay in the tent until it’s time to meet Cornelius. There’s no reason we should run into them. It’s not like they’ll be in the top box…”

 

”No… No, you’re right…” Lucius mumbles, smirking a little smugly to himself at the thought. 

 

Narcissa raises a delicate eyebrow as if to say, _Of course I am_ but remains silent. Her eyes flicker over to Draco briefly, and the blonde apparently takes it to mean they’re dismissed, because he grabs Harry’s sleeve and pulls gently, before leading the way out of the tent. 

 

”Let’s go see if we can find Seamus”, Draco says pointing to a patch of tents covered in shamrocks. 

 

”Okay”, Harry agrees, falling into step with him, but glancing behind him at the tents on either side of theirs, wondering which one was the Weasleys’, however he’s soon distracted by the tickling sensation of fingertips grazing the palm of his right hand and immediately looks down and grabs Draco’s hand with a happy smile. 

 

”Harry! Draco! Over here!”

 

”There he is”, Draco says, making a beeline for one of the hillock-shaped tents and pulling Harry along behind him. ”And Blaise too!”

 

Blaise Zabini and Seamus Finnigan, Harry’s and Draco’s closest friends from school, sit crosslegged outside the bright green tent, wearing massive Ireland rossettes on their lapels in equally bright green colour, if not brighter. 

 

”Hi Seamus! Blaise!” Draco greets them as he and Harry come to a stop in front of the other two boys.

 

”Hi guys”, the dark-skinned slytherin says, squinting up at them with a cool smile. ”Did you just get here?”

 

”Yeah, literally five minutes ago”, Harry replies. ”I didn’t know you were coming, Blaise!”

 

”Oh, we couldn’t let the poor thing miss this”, says Seamus’s mother, a sandy-haired witch with a smatter of freckles on her rosy cheeks, as she walks out of the tent. ”It’s one for the History books, this is!”

 

”Mum, you remember Harry and Draco from school”, Seamus tells her and she nods at each of them in turn, eyes narrowed in consideration. 

 

”You’ll be supporting Ireland, won’t you?”

 

”Of course”, Draco says and Harry quickly nods, chiming in with, ”What else!”

 

The woman nods her approval and offers them a cup of tea. Draco checks the time and accepts, sitting down in the grass opposite Blaise, pulling Harry down next to him. 

 

”So you worked it out then…” Blaise comments, nodding towards Harry’s and Draco’s interlaced fingers.

 

”About bloody time!” Seamus says. 

 

”Oh, sweethearts, are you?” Mrs Finnigan says, handing them each a cup of steaming hot tea. ”Isn’t that lovely… I’ve tried asking Seamus if he’s sweet on anyone, but he refuses to tell me!”

 

”Because there’s nothing to tell”, Blaise says with a smirk. 

 

”Not for lack of trying…” Seamus mutters and the other boys snicker good-naturedly. 

 

When it’s only ten minutes left until their curfew, Draco insists Harry and he start heading back to the tent, so they thank Mrs Finnigan for the tea and wave goodbye to their friends. 

 

When they return to the tent, Harry can see Arthur Weasley and at least five of his children gathered in front of the tent to the left of theirs and to his mild surprise, Hermione Granger is with them as well. He accidentally locks eyes with one of the Weasley twins and smiles in greeting. The older boy perks up and says something to the others, who all turn to look at Harry as well and wave at him. He waves back awkwardly. 

 

It turns out Mr and Mrs Malfoy have decided to venture outside the tent after all, despite their opinions about their temporary neightbours, because they’re standing just outside of the tent’s flap door, talking to another wizard, although Harry can tell Lucius is fighting to stay focused on the conversation because his grey eyes keep flitting over to the Weasleys every other second and narrowing in disgust. Looking more closely, Harry can see what’s bothering him. Mr Weasley is attempting to light a fire using some sort of muggle devices that look like tiny wooden sticks that spark into a flame when he rubs their tip against the side of a small box, but every time they do, it startles him and he drops the stick and has to retrieve a new one from the box. 

 

”Ah, here they are…” Lucius says drily. ”Bode, you remember my son, Draco…”

 

”Ah, yes, yes, nice to see you again, young man!” the other wizard says, barely even looking at Draco.

 

”And this is his friend from school, Harry Potter…”

 

”Oh, _indeed_ ”, Bode says, sounding just a little more interested and Harry catches his eyes flick upwards to seek out the scar on his forehead. 

 

”I believe you work with one of his guardians, Sirius Black?” Lucius adds. 

 

”Yes, indeed I do, but I’ve not yet had the please”, Mr Bode says and reaches out to clasp Harry’s hand tightly. ”Nice to meet you, Mr Potter!”

 

”Nice to meet _you_ ”, Harry says politely and shakes the man’s hand. 

 

”Aha, the man of the moment! _Ludo!_ ” Mr Weasley exclaims from the tent next door. 

 

Harry turns to see a beaming Ludo Bagman, wearing his old Quidditch robes that make him look like an over-sized bee, walking up to the Weasleys’ tent. 

 

”Ohoy there!” he calls out happily. ”Arthur, old man! What a day, eh? What a day!… And Malfoy, and Bode, as well”, he adds. ”Why, is this the campsite for Ministry employees or what?”

 

”Well, if you’ll excuse us, Bode”, Lucius mutters coolly. ”Now that the boys are back, we really ought to head inside for a spot of lunch… Draco! Inside, now!”

 

Draco quickly springs to life and hurries inside the tent. Harry follows him, but at a more leisure pace and pretends not to notice the sneer on Lucius face as he passes him.

 

Lunch is a tense and drawn out affair and by the time Draco has finished eating, and he and Harry head back outside to continue exploring the campsite, the afternoon sun has already started to set. Salesmen carrying trays or pushing carriages full of merchandise are Apparating and Disapparating left-right-and-centre, lit up like Christmas trees with their bright green rossettes for Ireland and red ones for Bulgaria, pointed green hats with dancing Shamrock and red scarves decked out in roaring lions, as well as flags from both countries that start to belt out their respective national anthems when waved, which makes for a very chaotic atmosphere when Harry and Draco wade through the many salesmen.

 

” _Come and get your collectible figures of your favourite players!_ ”

 

” _Fully functioning miniature Firebolt! Come and get your miniature Firebolt here, only three galleons!_ ”

 

”I want to get a programme”, Harry says, craning his neck as he scans the many carts and trays around him and no sooner has he uttered the word than a very excited-looking Saleswoman Apparates right in front of him with a _crack_ that makes him jump back.

 

”Get your programmes here!” she says happily. ”Two galleons each!”

 

”Two, please”, Harry says and hands her four gold coins, then takes the programmes from her and gives one to Draco. ”Should we get some rossettes or something?”

 

”I can’t, my parents don’t like me spending my pocket money on things I don’t need… Unless it’s ridiculously expensive and flashy, so that I can broadcast to the world how well off we are”, he adds drily and rolls his eyes. 

 

”What about a pair of binoculars?” Harry says and points to a cart filled with the brass instruments. ”Are they useful enough?”

 

Draco eyes the cart seriously for a second, then nods decisively and they approach it. The saleswizard perks up immediately and grabs one of the binoculars with a flourish and then holds it up. 

 

”Omniculars!” he exclaims. ”An absolute must at any match! You can replay action, slow everything down, watch a play-by-play, you name it—!”

 

”How much?” Harry asks. 

 

”A bargain! Ten galleons!”

 

” _Ten?_ ” Harry repeats. ”How about five?”

 

”These are quality omniculars, mister!” the saleswizard splutters. ”Eight and five sickles!”

 

”We’ll take two for seven a piece”, Draco drawls, making a show of looking elsewhere as if bored and ready to walk on. 

 

”Fine, fine, fourteen galleons!”

 

At dusk, the air itself is quivering with anticipation and by the time night falls, every witch and wizard come out of their tents, clutching their merchandise and murmuring excitedly. Then suddenly a gong rings out in the hush and immediately hundreds of green and red lanterns are lit amongst the trees, flanking the trail that leads to the stadium. Going with the surge of thousands of other excited witches and wizards, Harry and the Malfoys set out on the path through the woods. After a twenty minute walk, the golden walls of the Quidditch stadium appears between the silhouetted trees and Harry can’t help but to stare in amazement. He’s almost immediately distracted however, when Lucius sidles up next to him and lets his walking stick fly out behind his back and hooks the sharp silver head in the crock of Draco’s neck and thus herds the both of them towards the the nearest entrance of the gigantic stadium. Harry fights the impulse to bat the stick away from him, telling himself that at least it’s not the man’s gloved hand resting against his skin…

 

Narcissa hands their tickets to the Ministry witch who whistles when she sees their seats, ”Top Box! Just head straight up the stairs and just keep going as high as you can…”

 

They start to climb the purple carpeted stairs higher and higher, as the rest of the crowd gradually dissipates around them as witches and wizards file off and disappears through the doors they pass on each level, until finally they’re the only ones left climbing to the very top level and enter a small box. Inside are two rows of purple seats and looking out towards the pitch, Harry can see the rounded inner walls of the oval stadium where a hundred thousand witches and wizards are taking their seats and waving their flags and scarves. He’s never seen anything so magnificent in his life… In fact he’s so mesmerized by the view that at first he doesn’t even notice the many redheads in the front row and it’s not until Lucius lets out a tiny, involuntary gasp next to him that he realises that the entire Weasley clan and Hermione Granger is situated in the row in front of them, chatting idly with the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. 

 

Harry quickly looks up at Lucius’s face to gauge the risk of an altercation and wonders briefly if he should try and intervene like his daddy did that one time in Flourish and Blotts if the man does get into a fist fight with Mr Weasley… But if Lucius had been startled by the sight of the Weasleys when they walked into the Top Box, then he’d managed to hide it quickly because the look on his face is nothing if not calm and composed. 

 

”Ah, and here’s Lucius!” Fudge exclaims excitedly and wrings Lucius’s hand as soon as it’s within reach. 

 

”Ah, Fudge… How are you?” Lucius asks coolly. ”I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?”

 

”How do you do, how do you do?” says Fudge, smiling at them both and then doing a double-take as his eyes find Harry. ”Merlin’s beard!”

 

”And Harry, of course, our son’s friend from school…” Lucius adds smoothly and claps Harry once on the shoulder. 

 

”Harry Potter, what a pleasure—!” Fudge says and clasps Harry’s hand eagerly. ”And allow me to introduce you all to Mr Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr — well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying”, Fudge adds, then turns to the man in question and speaks loudly and slowly, while pointing at Harry. ”This… Is… Harry… Potter… _Harry Potter_ … Oh, come now! You must know who he is! _The Boy Who Lived,_ you know?”

 

Harry feels his face heat up and looks away, seeking out Draco’s eyes and feeling somewhat comforted when the other boy gives him a small smile and rolls his eyes. 

 

”Oh, Barty Crouch for this sort of business, I’m no great shakes at languages…” Fudge sighs. ”Where is Barty… Oh, I see his house-elf is saving him a seat…” 

 

Harry cranes his neck and sees a shy-looking house-elf sitting curled up on one of the seats in the second row, her face hidden in her trembling hands and her great bat-like ears sticking out on either side and quivering with each shuddering breath she takes. 

 

”Good thing too! These Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places… Anyway, let’s see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?” Fudge asks Lucius. 

 

Mr Weasley, who seems to have tried his best to ignore them up until this point, turns around in his seat and returns Lucius’s stare firmly, his ears flaring red as the blonde man sneers. Harry and Draco take their seats in the row behind the Weasleys, book-ended by Lucius and Narcissa, and for one brief moment it looks as though they’re out of the woods… But apparently Lucius can’t resist one final dig, because he sweeps his gaze along the first row then comments in mock surprise: ”Good Lord, Arthur. What did you have to sell to get these tickets? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

 

All of the Weasleys’ faces flush a deep crimson and scrunch up into matching set of scowls. Harry looks down at the omniculars in his lap, wishing for the first time since arriving in Dartmoor that morning that he in fact was anywhere else, World Cup be damned… 

 

”Lucius has just given a _very_ generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur”, Fudge says, clearly oblivious to the sudden tension. ”He’s here as my personal guest!”

 

”How — how nice”, Mr Weasley says, his voice strangled by emotion and Harry glances up quickly to see the man’s lips curl in a poor attempt at a smile.

 

Harry flicks his gaze over to Ron, who seems to sense his attention because he glances back and meets his eyes with an unreadable look on his face, but ears still burning a bright red. Harry quickly looks down again, feeling awful. 

 

Luckily Ludo Bagman chooses that moment to come bounding into the box, grinning almost maniacally and rubbing his hands together, and redirecting all of their attention to why they’re there… The match is about to begin!

 

”Well then! Are we all ready?” Bagman exclaims. ”Minister?”

 

”Ready when you are, Ludo”, Fudge says calmy as he too takes his seat. 

 

The former Quidditch player holds up his wand to his throat and casts a _Sonorus_ spell, then begins the commentary and Harry eagerly leans forward in his seat, omniculars gripped tightly in both hands. But before the players come onto the pitch, Bagman introduces each team’s mascots, starting with the Bulgarians which turns out to be a hundred Veelas dancing a mesmerizing dance that seems to put half the audience into some kind of a trance… Next to him, Draco starts sniggering and Harry curiously follows his line of sight to see a red-faced Granger out of her seat and physically restraining a very dazed Ron who seems to be trying to jump out of the Top Box in his eagerness to be closer to the Veela. 

 

Harry looks around i mild interest to see almost all the men in the box similarly affected, including the Minster for Magic but not, funnily enough, the Weasley twins nor Draco and himself, and Lucius Malfoy only slightly so; he’s blinking in a daze, but not making any attempts to get out of his seat like the others. 

 

Draco leans in and whispers in Harry’s ear, ”There have been rumous about Veela blood in the Malfoy family tree some generations ago, so technically father is part Veela and slightly immune to their magic…”

 

”Oh, I thought he might be bi or something”, Harry quips, receiving a jab in his ribs. 

 

Narcissa looks between the two of them, her eyes slightly narrowed in thought, but it’s impossible to gauge her feelings. Harry thinks she’s probably torn between relief that they’re behaving in public and concern over the implications of what it means that they’re completely unaffacted by the Veela. But she doesn’t say anything. 

 

Finally the music stops and the effect is instantaneous. All the men, and the few women, who’d been enthralled by the Veela regain their bearings and those who, like Ron, has tried to clamber out of their boxes and get closer to the pitch, quickly resume their seats as Ludo Bagman introduces the Irish Team’s mascots which unsurprisingly turn out to be a thousand leprechauns, zooming into the Stadium and putting on a magnificent show that culminates in a heavy rainfall of gold coins. 

 

After the leprechauns have congregated on the Irish side of the pitch and settled down to watch the match, Ludo Bagman introduce each player on both teams and then finally the referee, who mounts his broom and then kicks open the crate to release the quaffle, the bludgers and the golden Snitch — then with a shrill whistle, the match begins!

 

Harry has never experiences Quidditch this like this. Once, Sirius took him to see the Tornados play the Appleby Arrows, which is one of the highlights of Harry’s life to date, but that was childplay compared to this… The tempo of the match is faster and the tricks and feints pulled by the players more complicated. It’s like an intricate choreographed dance interspersed with bursts of violence as the bludgers are beaten and the players crash into each other. It’s so exciting, and the thrilling stunts and close-calls so many that Harry almost forgets to breathe… The Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, in particular is amazing and Harry can barely take his eyes off him… It’s unbelievable that he’s only eighteen and still in school, Harry thinks, cheering himself hoarse as the young player catches the Snitch right out from under Lynch’s nose and ends the game, even though Ireland is in the lead with one-hundred-and-sixty points and wins the match. 

 

”Why did he catch it for?” Harry can hear Ron shout, even as he’s jumping up and down in celebrating and clapping his hands. 

 

But it’s obvious to Harry that the Bulgarian Seeker had had no choice, since Lynch had already spotted the Snitch, but he also thinks Krum might have realised that the Irish Chasers were too good for his own team to ever catch up and simply wanted to end the match on his own terms. And Harry admires him all the more for it. 

 

As soon as they’ve made their way down all the stairs and back through the woods, Narcissa gives Harry and Draco a curfew and permission to go join their friends Seamus and Blaise over at the Irish campsite where the celebrations have already kicked off with music, singing and dancing. Harry grabs Draco by the arm and begins to hop around to the music. They stumble slightly every now and then, but their grins never waver. They dance well into the night and by the time their curfew is upon them, Harry’s shirt is damp with sweat and clinging to his skin, his hair is sticking to his neck and forehead and he’s panting… But the Irish are just getting started, it appears! Harry shakes his head in wonder and laughs. 

 

He grabs Draco’s hand and together they weave their way through the crowd and head back towards the tent. When they stumble through the tent’s flap door, Narcissa is sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in the lounge, reading a novel but at the sight of them she gently closes the book and stands up. 

 

”That’s enough…” she says calmly, hushing their giggles. ”Go brush your teeth and get into your pyjamas, go on…”

 

They quickly do as they’ve been told, but by the time they’ve finished brushing their teeth and washing up, Narcissa is nowhere to be seen and, assuming she’s gone to bed, both boys sneak into Harry’s bedroom and after they’ve changed into their pyjamas they sit cross-legged on top of the bed and chat quietly, both too wired to sleep… They can still hear the music and voices shouting in celebration, even as the canvas walls begin to brighten with the early light of dawn… 

 

”They’re never going to bed, are they?” Harry whispers with a chuckle and Draco grins, shaking his head. ”What about you, are you tired?”

 

”I’m tired, but I don’t think I can sleep…”

 

”Yeah, same…”

 

A sudden crash outside the room, wipes the smiles off both of their faces and they stare apprehensively at each other… _If Draco’s parents discovers him in my bed, they’ll never let me see him again,_ Harry thinks and silently curses himself for being so careless… _Maybe we can sneak him outside — Why didn’t I bring my Invisibility Cloak? —_

 

The door slams open and both boys startle, staring in fright as Narcissa storms inside the room. Harry opens his mouth, an excuse ready on his tongue, but before he can say anything, the witch has flung herself across the room and grabbed Draco by the arm… 

 

”Wait —!” Harry exclaims, but swallows the rest of his protest when Narcissa grabs him by the arm as well and yanks him forcefully from the bed. 

 

”Hurry up!” she hisses. ”We have to go! Come on, both of you, _hurry!_ Harry, grab your things — NOW!”

 

He bends down to grab a hold of the strap of his rucksack and slings it over his shoulder, while Narcissa continues to pull him along, her well-manicured fingers digging into his arm painfully and he stumbles after her and Draco. 

 

That’s when it suddenly dawns on him: The voices outside the tent, the screams… They don’t sound happy and celebratory anymore; they sound frightened and panicked… And as soon as Narcissa hurtle them through the flap door of the tent, his suspiscion is confirmed.

 

If the Irish victory dance had been chaotic, then the sight that meets Harry now is pure mayhem. A stampede of frightened witches and wizards are fleeing the campsite and heading into the woods, running away from a small group of people in masks, jeering and yelling drunkenly as they move across the field, their wands raised and firing hexes and shooting sparks… and high above them, floating in mid-air, are four figures that Harry realises with a pang are _people_ … 

 

He recognises the man as the muggle — Mr Roberts — who pointed them in the direction of their campsite, and the other three must be his wife and children, Harry thinks with a sinking feelings as he watches in mute horror as the four muggles struggle and writhe in pain…

 

”Come on, keep going!” Narcissa hisses, propelling Harry towards the woods. 

 

Harry cranes his neck, staring over his shoulder as more wizards join the first group, laughing and pointing up at the four muggles, until a proper crowd has gathered… Harry sees a tent burst into flames as one of them blasts it out of their way, before Narcissa gives his arm a particularly hard pinch and pushes him forward with all her strength.

 

They finally reach the tree line and she lets go of their arms. Harry barely refrains from rubbing his, feeling it throb in pain where her fingers had dug in. 

 

”What’s — what’s going on?” he says. 

 

”We need to get you home, Harry”, Narcissa says instead of answering. ”I’ll Side-Along you to the nearest floo point, then I’ll come back for you, Draco—”

 

”What?” Harry gasps. ”No! We can’t leave Draco here alone! Those men — they’re heading this way—!”

 

Narcissa and Draco exchange a tense look. 

 

”What?” Harry demands again. 

 

”Harry”, Draco mutters. ”They won’t harm _me_ …”

 

”I don’t understand…” Harry says, even as realisation begins to dawn and he glances back towards the campsite where a bright green light has suddenly appeared, but he can’t make out the source of it through the trees. 

 

”I’ll be _fine_ ”, Draco insists. ”Just go with mother… and I’ll see you in school—”

 

Gripped by an overwhelming tide of emotion, Harry surges forward to plant a kiss on the other boy’s mouth. But Narcissa roughly pushes them apart again, muttering ”None of that nonsense!”

 

Then her fingers are digging into Harry’s arm again and before he knows what’s happening, he’s being squeezed from all sides and the woods disappear from around him, his eyes are pushed into his skull and his lunges gripped in a vice… In the next moment, his feet connect with firm ground again and blinking tears from his eyes, Harry looks around and realises he’s standing in the middle of an empty pub. Narcissa lets go of his arm again with such force that he staggers. She gives him a pinched look and points towards a fireplace with some burning embers still left in the grate, and then without so much as a nod in good-bye, she Disapparates again. 

 

Harry walks over to the fireplace and looks around for some floo powder and finally finds a box of it on the floor and scoops some up with a shaking hand. 

 

”Number Two Creirwy’s Hollow _”_ , he says numbly as he steps into the green flames. 

 

Stumbling out of the fireplace at home, Harry remains standing in the middle of the room for a moment. He looks around at the familiar, bulging bookcases and snoozing portraits, the worn old sofa and the coffee table, the row of framed photographs on top of the mantlepiece… Home… He wonders if Draco and Narcissa are home at the Manor yet… Unless… Unless… Harry shivers and hugs himself. No, he tells himself sternly. Draco said he’d be fine, Drcao is fine. They’re both home and safe. 

 

”Harry?” 

 

He wheels around and locks eyes with a sleepy but surprised Sirius standing in the doorway. 

 

”What are you doing home so early?” the man asks, crossing the threshold and frowning at him. ”What’s going on?”

 

Before Harry knows how it’s happened exactly, his knees have buckled under him and tears are running down his face. He struggles for breath, but it’s like his lungs won’t cooperate. Now matter how much he gasps, he can’t get any air. And not until his dad has slammed his strong arms around his body does Harry realise how violently he’s shaking.

 

”Remus!” Sirius cries. ”REMUS—!”

 

”What? What?” a haggard-looking Remus hollers as he hurtles inside the lounge, his sleep-swollen eyes flicking wildly around the room before they land on Sirius and Harry kneeling together in the middle of the floor. ”Harry!”

 

He throws himself down on his knees next to them and grabs Harry’s face in both his hands. 

 

”Breathe, Harry! Breathe! It’s okay… Whatever happened, it’s going to be okay… Just breathe…”

 

”I — Dr-raco — the c-c-campsite — I-I-I d-don’t know what —” Harry stammers between gasps, his chest twinging painfully and for one terrified moment Harry genuinely thinks he might be having a heart attack. 

 

”HARRY!” Sirius barks, startling him. ”Breathe with me! In… Out… In… That’s it, good lad… And out…”

 

As soon as his lungs stop screaming, Harry unclenches his fists and reaches out for his daddy who eagerly envelops him in his arms and pulls him into his lap. 

 

”Let’s get him into bed”, he hears his dad mutter. 

 

Remus buries his face into Harry’s hair and he can feel him nod before he’s lifted off the floor and carried through the house into his bedroom. Remus sits down on top of his bed and leans his back against the headboard, still cradling him against his chest and rubbing soothing circles over his back. And despite his worry for Draco and the awful sight of men in macabre masks torturing muggles for fun re-playing in his mind, Harry almost immediately starts to drift off and just before he falls into a fitfull sleep, he hears his dad growl, ” _I’m going to tear his blonde fucking head off!_ ” before Remus shushes him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The EDIT, in case you were wondering, was Harry performing an Incendio spell after leaving the World Cup, which he can't have done if his wand was stolen... Which is was, so I went back and changed it so that there was still some burning embers in the fireplace that allowed him to flood home without realising his wand had gone missing...


	21. Dark Marks and Blast-Ended Skrewts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”It’s called a Dark Mark”, Remus says in an oddly hushed voice that makes the whole thing seem even more terrifying than it already is. ”It’s You-Know-Who’s mark, Harry… Those men in masks you saw… They were Death Eaters.”

Harry’s finally falls into a fitfull sleep, but it’s plagued by nightmares and not the usual one but rather fragmented pieces of the World Cup; one minute he’s dancing with Draco and the next minute Narcissa is dragging them through the woods and he can’t breathe… Then suddenly he’s alone in the dark and there are disembodied silvery white faces looming out of the darkness all around him, floating closer, laughing evilly as they surround him… 

 

The third time he startles awake, shivering with cold seat and choking on his own laboured breathing, Harry decides to get up. So he peels his soaked pyjamas off and changes into a pair of slacks and a tee, then follows the soothing sound of his dads murmured voices out into the kitchen. 

 

Sirius and Remus immediately fall silent as he shuffles over the threshold and Remus shoots up from his seat and hurries over to the stove to pour him some hot chocolate. Even before Harry’s got his hands wrapped around the mug, he feels warmer… 

 

”How are you feeling, pup?” Remus asks him gently, carding his fingers through his sweat-damp hair as he hands him the steaming mug. 

 

”Better…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Have a seat, sweetheart…” 

 

Harry sinks down on the chair and slumps over the table, blowing on the hot chocolate absent-mindedly and not until he’s taken a couple of cautious sips does he look up at his dads across the table and with a deep, steeling breath he starts to tell them everything. 

 

Remus and Sirius nod sympathetically, but they don’t look remotely shocked by anything he says, not even the part about men in masks torturing muggles. Harry frowns. Could his dads really have suspected something like that might happen? Or why aren’t they more surprised?

 

”Well, thank Merlin you’re all right…” Remus says when he falls silent. ”I must remember to send Narcissa an owl and thank her for getting you to safety.”

 

”You’re not… mad?” Harry asks carefully. 

 

”With Narcissa? No, no, she behaved admirably… And no, we’re not mad at Draco either.”

 

”Just… Lucius”, Harry guesses, looking between his dads to gauge their reaction. ”You think he was one of the men in masks, don’t you?”

 

”Yes”, Sirius says plainly. 

 

Harry nods, swallowing hard. It never even occurred to him at the time, but now that he’s had some time to think and process everything, it’s the only thing that makes sense… Also, that would explain the look Draco and Narcissa shared, and it would also explain what Draco meant when he said ”They won’t harm _me…_ ”

 

”I do too”, Harry mumbles. ”What does it mean, though?”

 

His dads exchange an uncomfortable look, but then Sirius twists around in his chair and grabs the _Daily Prophet_ from the counter behind him. He unfolds it and tosses it unceremoniously on the table in front of Harry. 

 

The whole front page is taken up by a large photograph of a patch of sky with a weird, moving cloud shaped like a gaping skull and from inside of its mouth slithers a giant snake… Harry doesn’t know what it means and still it makes the hairs in the back of his neck stand. He tears his eyes away from the picture and reads the headline: _Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup_

 

”What… What is it?” he asks uncertainly, dreading the answer. 

 

”It’s called a Dark Mark”, Remus says in an oddly hushed voice that makes the whole thing seem even more terrifying than it already is. ”It’s You-Know-Who’s mark, Harry… Those men in masks you saw… They were Death Eaters.”

 

”Death Eaters?” Harry repeats fearfully. 

 

”You-Know-Who’s followers”, Remus explains. ”Back when You-Know-Who was still… still in possession of his powers… He and his Death Eaters used to conjure the Dark Mark over any place where they’d…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. ”Where they’d killed… It therefore became the symbol of the terror the wizarding community felt at the time… No-one’s seen a Dark Mark in thirteen years, until last night, but… We don’t know exactly what it means, or who conjured it last night.”

 

”You mean it wasn’t those… those Death Eaters who did it?”

 

Remus looks unsure, but shakes his head, ”According to the article in the _Prophet_ , they all Disapparated as soon as it was conjured… which makes sense when you think about it. All the Death Eaters who avoided Azkaban thirteen years ago all did so by denying any involvement with You-Know-Who in the first place or by betraying their friends, so I reckon they’re even more terrified of the idea of his return than the rest of us.”

 

”Think someone could have conjured it just to scare the Death Eaters away?” Harry asks curiously as the thought hits him and both his dads smirk fondly at him. ”What?”

 

”Sometimes I forget you’re a Slytherin, Harry”, Sirius says. ”And then you go and say something like that… But no, as cunning as that would have been, only the Death Eaters ever knew _how_ to conjure the Dark Mark, so even though it wasn’t conjured by any of those drunk idiots last night, whoever _did_ conjure it was also a Death Eater…”

 

Harry nods. He feels weighted down somehow, like all this new information is a heavy blanket draped over his shoulders and no matter how much he tries to shrug it off it just won’t leave him again… 

 

”I’m sorry about all this, Harry”, Remus says. ”But did you at least have a good time before this happened? How was the match?”

 

Perking up slightly, Harry nods and eagerly starts to describe the whole match from memory and by the time he gets to Victor Krum pulling off the Wronski Feint, he’s so excited he can barely stay seated. 

 

”It was _amazing!_ I wish you could have been there and seen it — _Oh!_ ” he exclaims as he remembers his omniculars and realises the play-by-play function might still be possible, even after the fact. ”Actually, maybe you can! Hang on, be right back—!”

 

He hops off his chair and hurries out of the kitchen again, running through the hallway and skidding to a stop inside the door of his bedroom, looking around until he spots his rucksack tossed into a corner and immediately throws himself over it and starts digging through his toiletries and used pants, looking for the omniculars, but they’re not in the bag at all… Nor is his wand, he realises with a jolt of panic. 

 

Running back out into the kitchen, he tells him dads he must have forgotten the omniculars and his wand in the Malfoy’s tent or dropped them in the woods. 

 

”It’s okay, Harry”, Remus says calmly. ”They’re just things. They can be replaced.”

 

”But I need my wand”, Harry says. ”I need my wand, I start school in a few days!”

 

”We can get you a new wand, Harry, _it’s okay_ …”

 

”But I don’t want another wand, I want _my wand_ ”, he insists, his breath hitching. 

 

”I know, pup…” he says soothingly. ”And I’m sure we’ll find it, I’m sure you just left it behind in the tent, but _if_ you dropped it in the woods, it’s not the end of the world… Come on, calm down, have some more chocolate…”

 

 _Chocolate doesn’t solve everything_ , Harry wants to scream but he manages to bite his tongue and just lets out a half-sob and turns back around and shuffles back to his room. He throws himself face down on his bed and puts the pillow over his head, muffling Hedwig’s hoots and his dads murmured voices from the kitchen, and before long, he’s dozed off again. 

 

The next time he wakes up, his dads are still talking out in the kitchen but there’s also a third voice mixed in with theirs. Harry throws the pillow aside and sits up, listening… _Yeah, definitely a third voice, a woman’s…_ He can’t make out any words though, so he scrambles off the bed and walks back out into the kitchen. 

 

”Thank you again”, Remus says, shaking the hand of an official-looking witch wearing scarlet robes and horn-rimmed glasses. ”Oh, here he is… Harry, this is Madam Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She’s come to give you back your wand.”

 

”My wand?” Harry says, hardly daring to believe it. ”You found it?”

 

”In a manner of speaking…” Madam Bones says with a polite smile. ”Mr Potter, would you mind if I asked you a quick couple of questions about last night?”

 

”Yeah, sure…” Harry says, looking to his daddy for reassurance and receiving a smile. 

 

”When is the last time you remember having your wand?”

 

”Oh, um, I’m not sure… I mean, I must have had it when we left the Manor, but I never used it at the World Cup so I could have lost it at any time, I suppose…”

 

”You had seats in the Top Box, didn’t you?”

 

”Yeah, Mr Malfoy got them from the Minister”, Harry says, wondering why the witch would ask about that, thinking maybe that’s where they found his wand… _But that doesn’t make any sense, why would it just have fallen out of my pocket, it’s never done that before…_

 

”And do you remember a house-elf sitting in the Top Box?” Madam Bones asks. 

 

Harry blinks, non-plussed, because — although he _does_ remember the house-elf that sat two seats away from him with its face hidden in its trembling hands for the entire duration of the match, saving the empty seat between its own and Harry’s for Barty Crouch who never even turned up — Harry’s completely confused as to where this line of questioning is going… Because between the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark, who gives a damn about a shy house-elf? 

 

 _Hey, that’s a good point,_ he thinks. _Why would an Auror come and deliver my wand in person if it was just found in the Top Box? And why would she be asking questions at all, if she’s just delivering a lost wand? Surely the Auror Department has better things to be getting on with after the Dark Mark has been conjured for the first time in thirteen years?_

 

”Harry…” Remus prompts gently. ”Answer the question.”

 

”Y-Yeah, there was a house-elf, two seats over from me”, he says quickly. ”She was saving a seat for her master…”

 

”Barty Crouch?” Madam Bones interjects. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry nods. ”But what’s that got to do with my wand?”

 

”And you didn’t notice the house-elf move out of her seat at any point during the match?” Madam Bones asks, ignoring Harry’s own question. ”You didn’t see her reach out or move closer to you?”

 

”To me?” Harry says, frowning in confusion. ”No…”

 

”And you’re sure you don’t remember if you still had your wand on you as you left the Top Box?”

 

”No”, Harry says again. ”Is that where you found it?”

 

Madam Bones looks over at Remus and Sirius and gives them a pinched smile. Sirius stands up and so does Madam Bones. She follows Sirius over to the doorway, but pauses on the threshold to give Harry a kind smile and says, ”It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter…”

 

As Sirius walks Madam Bones to the door, Harry turns questioning eyes on Remus who heaves a heavy sigh and leans back in his chair. 

 

”That house-elf of Barty Crouch’s”, he says. ”She was found at the scene of the crime and she had your wand in her possession… They checked it and… it had been used to conjure the Dark Mark.”

 

”What?” Harry says. ”Someone used _my wand_ to conjure it?”

 

”Yes… They believe the elf might have done it, but…” he shakes his head. 

 

”But… Dad said only Death Eaters could conjure it?”

 

”I know… It’s absurd to even suggest a house-elf could have done it, but… She did have your wand on her. I guess she could have found it. We’ll never know for sure… But at least you got it back!”

 

Harry nods, sinking down in his seat at the table. 

 

”I owled Narcissa”, Remus tells him. ”She just owled back a while ago. Everyone made it home safely and Draco says to tell you he’s looking forward to seeing you at Hogsmeade Station on the first…”

 

 

*

 

Even though Harry wakes up fairly early on the first of September, because of the depressing sight of heavy rain pelting his window — and because for the last time this year he actually _can —_ he enjoys a very long lie-in. In fact he stays curled up under the covers, half-asleep well into the afternoon, until Remus knocks on the door to his room and demands he get up, if he wants any lunch before he has to make his way over to the Station. Stomach growling at the mention of food, Harry stretches lazily and with a yawnn he kicks the cover off and drags himself out of bed. 

 

Despite trying to appear stern and tutting over his son’s laziness, Remus can’t help himself and ends up doting on him for the rest of the afternoon, obviously making the most of their last hours together and getting more and more misty-eyed as evening falls. 

 

Finally, they get ready to face the storm outside and make their way across Hogsmeade town, huddled together under an umbrella that is nearly snatched out of Remus’s hand by the wind several times before they finally reach the station. They enter the small waiting room and warm up while they wait for the Hogwarts Express to roll into the station and Remus lets Harry put his freezing hands inside his robes to warm them up. Harry gratefully fists the material of his daddy’s jumper and relishes the extreme body heat radiating from underneath.

 

”You’re always just the right temperature”, he muses. 

 

Remus chuckles and combs Harry’s damp hair out of his face with his fingers and strokes his head fondly. 

 

”Being a werewolf has _some_ perks…” he says with a wry smile, then wraps his robes and arms around Harry’s smaller body and hugs him close, rubbing his back. 

 

”Definitely…” Harry agrees and cuddles closer, resting his head over his daddy’s heart.

 

The Hogwarts Express finally emerges through the darkness and pulls into the platform. Remus gives Harry a final kiss on the forehead, then unwraps him from his robes. Harry shivers as the evening wind whips him once more, but steps away from his daddy and grabs his trunk. 

 

”Now behave yourself…” Remus says. 

 

”I will”, Harry says with a grin. 

 

”I mean it, Harry!”

 

”I know! I will, I promise!”

 

”All right, then…” Remus mutters reluctantly. ”Owl us in the morning and let us know what weekends you’re allowed to Hogsmeade. Hopefully I’ll see you on the first one… If not, I’ll see you at Christmas.”

 

”Okay”, Harry says and steals a last hug, before dragging his trunk towards the horseless carriages and waving goodbye before getting into the first one. 

 

He’s soon joined by his friends, who must have either been the first off the train or elbowed their way to the front of the queue to get to the first carriage, knowing Harry would be in that one, but either way, Harry is too happ y to see them — Draco in particular — to care and he just beams as they clamber inside and take their seats around him. 

 

Draco leans in to give him a quick peck on the lips and gives him a pinched smile in greeting, but Harry immediately spots the tension around his eyes and frowns. 

 

”Are you all right?” he asks worriedly. 

 

”I am now…” Draco says, his smile softening slightly. 

 

”Ugh…” Seamus says and slouches down in his seat, glaring half-heartedly at the both of them. 

 

”Shut up”, Blaise huffs. ”Remember last year? Now, which do _you_ prefer, because _I_ happen to think this is a vast improvement…”

 

”Yeah, I suppose…” the Irish boy mutters, then gives Harry a wink to show he’s only teasing. 

 

With a jostle that knocks the boys together, their carriage begins to move and to the background noise of squeaking wheels and squelching mud, they begin the journey around the outskirts of Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts.

 

Finally their carriage comes to a stop below the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors of the castle. Harry hops down and immediately bows his head, covering it with both arms against as he runs up the stairs. Not until he’s safely inside the massive Entrance Hall does he look up and shake his wet hair out of his face. Draco performs a quick drying charm on himself, then does the same to Harry who grins his thanks. 

 

They make their way inside the Great Hall, looking larger than ever when almost deserted, since most of the students have yet to arrive and take their seats at one of the four House tables. Harry and his friends make their way over to the long table on the far right — the Slytherin table, distinctive only by the subtle splash of green in the folded napkins on top of the golden plates — and choose to sit down in the middle, not too close to the doors nor next to the new first-years. 

 

When a fifth of the student body has found their way inside the Great Hall and settled in their seats, a loud yell can be heard from just outside the doors, followed almost immediately by several panicked shrieks and outraged screams. 

 

Several of the professors react in alarm and Harry can see both Dumbledore and Professor Snape instinctively stand up, but it is Professor McGonagall who strides around the Head Table and runs down the middle aisle and disappears through the doors. 

 

”PEEVES!” they hear her holler almost as soon as she’s disappeared out of sight, and there is a collective sigh of relief in the Hall, because as annoying as the Poltergeist can doubtlessly be, he never poses any real danger.

 

”Wonder what prank he’s pulled this time, and on whom?” Harry says as the Head of Gryffindor House continues to yell and the Poltergeist cackles.

 

The others hum in agreement and glancing over at Draco, Harry imagines he can detect a small flicker of amusement, and maybe even hope, in the other boy’s eyes as he gazes over at the doors and Harry wonders what — _or whom_ — had popped into the blonde’s mind, but quickly decides that he _really doesn’t want to know…_

 

” _Well, move along then!_ ” they can hear Professor McGonagall bark as the Poltergeist’s cackles have faded away, presumably as he’s finally decided to surrender and zoom away, deeper inside the castle, to plot his next practical joke. ” _Into the Great Hall, come on!_ ”

 

The rest of the students trudge through the doors, lead by Hermione Granger and a very wet-looking Ron Weasley who seems to be muttering furiously. Harry tries to catch the boy’s eye, but he walks past the Slytherin table without looking up, wringing water from his soaked robes as he follows Granger to the long table at the opposite side of the Hall. 

 

”Hiya, Harry!” a high-pitched voice pipes up to his left, causing him to jump slightly. 

 

He turns to see a very excited, and equally soaked, Colin Creevey wave at him as he too walks past the Slytherin table to get to the Gryffindor table at the far end. Harry warily gives the boy a single wave back. Next to him, Draco snorts. 

 

”Shut up…” Harry mutters. 

 

”I’m beginning to think you _like_ having your own _fan-boy_ …”

 

”Shut _up_ …”

 

”What is it with you and the Gryffindors”, Blaise says. 

 

”Nothing!” Harry snaps, then tilts his head back with a sigh. ”Merlin, I hope the Sorting is quick, I’m starving…”

 

Dark, rolling clouds are gathered inside the vault of the enchanted ceiling and as another muffled thunderclap can be heard from outside, they flash brightly from the lightening… Now safely inside the castle and finally starting to feel warm and dry again, Harry can actually appreciate the beauty of the storm. 

 

His musings are interrupted by the low creak of the doors opening again and he tilts his head back down to see the stern-faced Professor McGonagall come striding inside the Hall, herding the small group of first-years like a mother duck might lead a line of ducklings. The thought makes Harry smile. 

 

Professor McGonagall leads the first-years to the front of the Great Hall and instructs them to gather around the three-legged stool she places below the Head Table and the children stare in confusion as she then places the Sorting Hat on top of it. 

 

Harry remembers his own thoughts as he stood in their place and stared as the dirty and patched-up old hat had suddenly sprung to life and started to sing… The new first-years startle in a similar fashion now and Harry and his friends exchange amused smirks each other. 

 

As the Sorting Hat’s final bars fade out, Professor McGonagall unrolls her parchement and begins calling the new students in alphabetical order to be Sorted. Harry joins his fellow Slytherins in applauding everyone who gets Sorted into their house and makes a point of catching a glimpse of each of their young faces to commit them to memory — not that he’ll have much contact with them, being a fourth-year himself — but it seems only right that he be able recognise his fellow Slytherins when passing them in the corridors, and somehow it feels like cheating to go by the badges on their school robes or the colours of their scarves.

 

As the last student is Sorted and Professor McGonagall removes the Sorting Hat and its stool again, Professor Dumbledore stands up and sweeps his twinkling gaze over the lot of them with a kind smile. 

 

Please, keep it short, Please, keep it short, Harry thinks desperately, feeling like his stomach lining has begun to eat itself…

 

”I have only two words to say to you”, the Headmaster says in his booming voice, holding his arms out so that the light from all the levitated candles in the Hall catches on the many stars and moons embroidered on his emerald green robe sleeves, making them twinkle. ” _Tuck in!_ ”

 

 _Yesss,_ Harry thinks in relief and throws himself over the nearest dish as soon as the food magically appears on the table in front of him.

 

Draco doesn’t show quite as much as eagerness over the prospect of being fed, but he too reaches for a dish almost immediately and Harry is — perhaps disproportionately so — happy to see him fill his plate with a lot more food than he normally would. He takes his sweet time, as always, but he does finish everything on his plate and Harry barely refrains from offering him some kind of encouragement, but thinks better of it at the last minute and bites his tongue. 

 

As soon as both the first course and the puddings that magically replaced it has been cleared and replaced with sparkling clean plates, Professor Dumbledore stands again. The idle chatter around the Hall immediately dies down and everyone turns to give the Headmaster their full attention.

 

”So, now that we are all fed and watered”, he says gently, smiling down at them. ”I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices… Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frosbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it…”

 

Harry snorts — like that’s going to happen! — and next to him Draco sneers, probably thinking the same thing, but all Harry can think is how uncannily like his father he looks when he pulls a face like that and it makes Harry feel quite ill at ease. Shaking his head slightly, he focuses on the Headmaster again, even as he sternly reminds himself that Draco is _nothing_ like his father, other than in looks!

 

”As ever, I would like to remind you all”, Dumbledore continues. ”that the forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to those below third year… It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

 

” _What?_ ” Harry hisses, but it’s completely drowned out by the reactions of the rest of the students, some of which — the four Team Captains in particular — are a lot louder.

 

Dumbledore raises his arms again, this time to wave his hands in a placating manner, but it does nothing to appease the student body, twinkling embroidery or not, and Harry glances over at the Slytherin Team Captain Marcus Flint, expecting to see a thunderous expression on the boy’s face, but the glare he’s directing at the Headmaster is actually one of pure hatred, and on his right Adrian Pucey is watching his friend and fellow team mate with worry, as if expecting him to either spontaneously combust or fly out of his seat and attempt to attack the Headmaster and get himself expelled. 

 

”This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year”, Dumbledore says in a loud, carrying voice that echoes around the Hall despite the unhappy buzz. ”It will take up much of the teachers’ time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —”

 

But before the Headmaster can finish the announcement, the doors to the Great Hall flies open with a bang made even more impressive by the accompaniment of deafening thunder. Everyone startles and turns around in their seats, staring at the spectacle of a man framed in the doorway, leaning heavily on a long staff. As he lowers the hood of his travel cloak and shakes out his long, grizzled grey hair, sending droplets of water flying off him in all directions, they can all see mangled face — or rather what’s left of it, which isn’t much — amongst the heavy scarring a mouth can be seen, but it looks more like a gash than anything with lips. His nose is missing a large chunk, revealing the two holes underneath and giving the illusion of a skull, only with most of its skin still draped over it, except definitely half-rotted… But the most unsettling feature of the man’s face, Harry thinks, is the eyes… Well, one of the eyes at least, and it isn’t the dark and beady one… It’s the large, electric blue one that keeps swivelling around frantically, without blinking. It rolls up and down, from side to side, and as the man starts to limp further inside the Great Hall, Harry catches the eye swivel all the way back into the man’s skull, before he’s limped past the Slytheirn table. 

 

The man limps all the way to the front of the Hall and shakes Dumbledore’s hand, before taking the empty seat at the Head Table. 

 

”May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher”, Dumbledore says, breaking the stunned silence. ”Professor Moody!”

 

He claps his hands enthusiastically, and the other teachers join in, albeit less enthusiastically but that’s always the case, Harry has learned. The students don’t join in, which is a first, and a testament to the shock they must all have experienced at the sight of this Moody — who doesn’t appear to care one way or the other, by the way, Harry thinks studying the man’s face as he begins to chew on a piece of sausage after having given it a suspiscious sniff first… He then reaches into his cloak and pulls out a hip-flask that he takes a generous swig from, and Harry lets out an incredulous but amused breath. He looks over at his friends across the table. Blaise’s eyebrow is raised and Seamus is out-right grinning. 

 

 _DADA might still be interesting this year,_ Harry thinks, _even without daddy teaching_ … _Moody_ , he thinks then. The name rings a bell, but he can’t put his finger on it… 

 

”As I was saying”,  Dumbledore continues, turning back to face the students. ”We are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

 

”You’re joking!” one of the Weasley twins says loudly over at the Gryffindor table, finally breaking the tension in the room and making the other students laugh. 

 

”I am not joking, Mr Weasley”, Dumbledore says with a light chuckle, his eyes twinkling more than ever. ”Though, now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar —”

 

Professor McGonagall clears her throat loudly and gives the Headmaster a meaningful look, throwing him off and he gives his Deputy an unsure look. 

 

”Er — but maybe this is not the time? — No — Where was I?… Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… Well, some of you will not know what the Tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation…”

 

Harry tunes out the rest, letting his mind race… The Triwizard Tournament, here at Hogwarts… He can barely believe it. The Tournament is legend. His dads told him stories about it when he was a small boy. And never did he believe that in a million years he would actually have a chance of experiencing it first hand, since it’s been banned for over a century, because of the many fatalities… 

 

”Our own Department of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt”, Dumbledore says as Harry tunes back in. ”We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger… The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October and the selection of the three champions will take place on Hallowe’en…”

 

”Think Viktor Krum will come here?” Seamus whispers excitedly across the table. ”How awesome would it be to go to school with him for a whole year!”

 

”Viktor Krum? What do you mean?” Harry says. 

 

”He goes to Durmstrang! Didn’t you know?”

 

Harry just shakes his head… His mind flashes to the Bulgarian Seeker at the World Cup and his bold stunts, like the Wronski Feint… Yeah, it would be awesome indeed, he thinks. 

 

”Draco, didn’t you nearly end up going to Durmstrang?” Blaise whispers. 

 

”Yeah…” Draco mumbles and nods slightly, without tearing his eyes away from the Headmaster. 

 

Harry whips his head around and blinks at the blonde in surprise, feeling all sorts of unease at the idea that he and Draco might never have known each other, that that had ever been a possibility, maybe even a close one, and he never even realised. 

 

”Father wanted to send me there, but mother refused”, Draco adds in an undertone. ”She didn’t want me that far away from home.”

 

Harry swallows down the lump in his throat and tells himself sternly that there is absolutely nothing to feel uneasy about. Draco didn’t go to Durmstrang and they do know each other. They know each other very well, in fact. 

 

”How far away is it?” Harry asks, forcing himself to focus on something else other than the tight sensation in his chest. ” _Where_ is it?”

 

”Siberia”, Draco says, then turns to Harry and lowers his voice even further. ”Father is aquainted with Igor Karkaroff who runs it… If he’s coming here, Father definitely might drop by for a visit.”

 

Harry nods in understanding. They’ll need to be very careful…

 

”Eager though I know all of you are to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts”, Dumbledore continues after a moment of letting the news sink in and the students all fall silent once more and give him their full attention. ”The Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — are allowed to put forward their names for consideration—”

 

There is an uproar of protest amongst the students, but Harry clearly hear Draco’s muttered ”Good” and catches his sidelong look. 

 

”Oh, like I was going to put my name forward”, Harry mutters sarcastically.

 

Draco gives him a disbelieving look and Harry rolls his eyes, ”I wasn’t, I wouldn’t. My dads would _kill_ me…”

 

As they enter their new dormitory — identical to the dormitories they’ve had in their previous years — Harry makes a beeline for the four-poster bed furthest from the door and closest to one of the two windows facing the depths of the lake, used to the soothing sound of underwater waves lulling him to sleep and the pleasant, dull green light waking him in the morning. 

 

As he turns around to perch on the side of the bed so he can take his boots off, his heart lurches at the sight of Draco claiming the bed next to him. Harry and Draco had slept next to each other their first two years at Hogwarts, but exactly a year ago to this night — to this minute — Draco had made a point of choosing the bed furthest from Harry’s, that had been Crabbe’s in the years previous, and it had really hammered Draco’s point across in the worst, most heart-breaking manner possible… Harry remembers crying himself to sleep that night… He remembers it like it was yesterday, yet at the same time it feels like a whole lifetime ago considering how much has happened since then, in Harry’s life and between him and Draco as well. _Mostly good things,_ he thinks and looks over at the blonde again with a smile. _At least recently._

 

Draco’s gaze flickers up to meet his through his lashes. There’s an unreadable expression on his face, but Harry is sure he is remembering as well… _I wonder if he cried himself to sleep that night too…_

 

That thought is even more heart-wrenching to Harry who is gripped by a very sudden, very violent and — he’s aware — very unrealistic conviction that he must make sure the other boy will never have anything to cry about every again! 

 

Snorting softly to himself, he pulls his pyjama top over his head and climbs into bed, sure he just channelled his inner Remus and feeling quite good about it… He falls asleep grinning into his pillow and dreams of flying with Draco, higher and higher in the sky as it keeps lighting up, forked lightening bursting through the thick clouds all around them like a brilliant fence, but it doesn’t feel scary at all even though it probably should, but Harry just knows the storm can’t touch them… They finally come together in mid-air, kissing, caressing, fisting each other’s hair, their broomsticks knock together as they try to get closer…

 

Remembering the dream when he wakes up the next morning, Harry blushes furiously and before he gets out of bed he quickly looks down to make sure there is no evidence of exactly what kind of dreams he’s been having, knowing that his friends will mercilessly take the mick out of him for the rest of the — _year,_ probably, if they find out… Although, Harry’s sure they’ve all had dreams like that on more than one occasion themselves.

 

The door to the dorm slides open and Draco walks in, towelling his wet hair and even though he’s completely decent in his trousers and tee, Harry’s blush immediately comes back full force… The blonde gives him a weird look, but doesn’t comment, just tells him to get a move on or they’re going to be late for their first lesson. Which is technically true, but only because Draco himself takes ages finishing his breakfast and Harry, being the gentleman that he is, keeps him company instead of spending those extra minutes in bed. 

 

Harry reaches out and grabs Draco’s hand and reins him in. The blonde immediately tenses up and looks around quickly, but relaxes again when he realises the dorm is empty. 

 

”See, sleepy-head”, he mumbles as Harry pulls him closer. ”Everyone else is already at breakast…”

 

”I had a dream about you…” Harry murmurs, angling for a kiss. 

 

”You need to brush your teeth and drag a comb through that bird’s nest”, Draco says, shifting awkwardly in Harry’s embrace. 

 

”Wow, so romantic…” Harry mutters sarcastically and the blonde rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch. ”Don’t you want to know what we did my dream?”

 

” _No…_ ” Draco says, giving his chest a light shove, but the only thing Harry cares about is the pink blush in cheeks and grins in triumph. ”I _want_ to go to breakfast. Now _let’s go_ …”

 

”Fine”, Harry says and gives the other boy a quick peck, before letting him go. 

 

As soon as he’s changes out of his pyjamas and into his school robes however, Draco steps into his space again and presses his body up against his in a way that wakes him _right up_ … Then he lazily drapes his arms around Harry’s neck and licks his way into his mouth in one of the filthiest and most wicked kisses Harry has ever been on the receiving end of, and that leaves him literally breathless once the blonde has stepped back again with a smirk. 

 

Blinking stupidly, but slowly shaking off the haze of arousal, Harry narrows his eyes at the other boy. 

 

”Did you just… _reward_ me for doing as I was told?” he asks incredulously. 

 

The smirk on Draco’s face doesn’t waver, he just gives Harry a playful shrug and turns away and walks over to the doorway. Shaking his head in amusement, Harry follows. 

 

As they leave the dungeons and get above ground, it’s clear that the storm is still raging outside the walls of the castle and rattling the windows. He really hopes they don’t have Care of Magical Creatures today, or even Herbology even though it’s usually held indoors, because in order to _get_ to the greenhouses they _would_ have to leave the castle and walk across the grounds. 

 

Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry instinctively reaches for Draco’s hand to get his attention when the blonde is about to walk right past Seamus and Blaise. 

 

”Gerroff—!” Draco snaps, flinching away from him.

 

”What…?”

 

Draco shuffles away from him awkwardly, glaring at his shoulder. Harry feels floored, mind whirring to a complete stop in its inability to process what the _hell_ just happened… But when Draco’s gaze flicker to a point just behind Harry’s shoulder — even before he hears her shrill giggle — Harry just _knows_ Pansy Parkinson just walked into the Great Hall. 

 

”Stop pawing at me all the time!” Draco says loudly, his gaze flitting between Harry’s face and the point behind his shoulder — Pansy — getting nearer. ”Weasel over there’s been oogling you ever since we got here, why don’t you go join him if you need someone to hold your hand so badly…”

 

”Really?” Harry says quietly, pinning the blonde with a glare until he ducks his head.

 

”What’s the matter, Harry?” Pansy taunts as she sidles up to him, shoving her shoulder against his and confirming his guess. ”Scared of lightening?”

 

”That’s ironic”, Daphne chimes in with a snicker. 

 

Harry ignores them both. Anger is beginning to boil under his skin. 

 

 _Look at me, you fucking coward_ , he thinks as he continues to stare Draco down. But the blonde is avoiding his eyes now. He looks abashed, even regretful but Harry is too angry to care. 

 

”Fine”, he bites out bitterly. 

 

He catches Draco’s alarmed look just before he turns away. Then suddenly there’s a loud _bang_ and several people scream. Stumbling over his own feet, Harry quickly wheels back around and searches frantically for whatever made the noise — and for Draco — but the blonde is suddenly nowhere to be seen… 

 

”OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!” Mad-Eye Moody roars as he comes hobbling through doors, his wand pointing at… _a white ferret_ cowering on the floor where Draco had been standing only a second ago… Harry’s heart skips a beat as he stares in horror at the small, trembling creature, hardly believing what’s just happened. A tense, terrified silence spreads amongst the students, interrupted only by the muffled roar of thunder coming from outside and the _clunk, clunk, clunk_ of Moody’s peg leg as he limps up to Harry, his good eye fixed firmly on Harry’s face.

 

”Did he get yeh?” he growls. 

 

”What?” Harry says. ”What are you talking about—?”

 

”I DON’T THINK SO—!” he roars suddenly and Harry jumps back, startled. 

 

But in the next second it becomes clear that Moody hadn’t been yelling at him at all, because he turns away and points his wand at the ferret again as it gives a terrified squeak and tries to run away, only to be blasted ten feet into the air before falling to the floor again with a _smack_ … 

 

”I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back is turned”, Moody growls, directing the ferret out into the Entrance Hall, bouncing it higher and higher, as it squeals in pain. ”Stinking, cowardly —”

 

” _Stop it!_ ” Harry screams, his heart pounding as he runs after the enraged professor. ”He didn’t do anything! Stop — _you’re hurting him_!”

 

”I saw him reach for his wand! Scummy thing to do—!”

 

”No, he wouldn’t — you must have been mistaken — _please, Professor!_ You’re hurting him!” Harry begs, looking worriedly between the man’s crazy good eye and the squealing ferret as it hits the floor with another sicking _crunch_. 

 

”What is going on here?” the stern voice Professor McGonagall barks and Harry is immensely grateful to see the old witch come marching down the marble staircase.

 

”Professor!” he gasps and points. ”Draco —!”

 

”Wh—” she splutters in shock. ”Professor Moody! Is that — _is that a student?_ ”

 

”Yep!” Moody says. 

 

McGonagall fumbles frantically for her wand; then with a loud snapping noise, Draco reappears in a trembling heap on the floor, his blonde hair dishevelled and plastered to his pink, sweaty face. Harry’s heart stutters as he watches him push to his feet, wincing in pain. 

 

”Moody, we _never_ use transfiguration as a punishment!” McGonagall says. ”Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that? We give detentions! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

 

”I’ll do that, then”, Moody says gruffly, still staring with great dislike at Draco with his good eye. 

 

Draco’s eyes well up with tears of either pain or humiliation, or both, but he meets Moody’s eye dead on, muttering about his father. 

 

”Oh yeah?” Moody says quietly, advancing on him slowly. ”Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody is keeping a close eye on his son, you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House will be Snape, I take it?”

 

”Yes”, Draco whispers resentfully.

 

”Another old friend”, Moody says and grabs Draco roughly by the arm and begins to haul him off towards the dungeons, muttering about having a chat. 

 

Harry only hesitates for a second, before he runs after them. 

 

”This doesn’t concern you, Potter”, Moody says without turning around. 

 

”Yes, it does”, Harry counters as he sidles up to Draco. ”And you don’t need to grab him so hard, you’ll pull his arm off!”

 

”Wouldn’t that be a pity…” Moody grumbles, but he lets go of Draco anyway. 

 

”I don’t need you to play hero”, Draco hisses at Harry. 

 

”I don’t care what you need”, Harry bites back. ”I’m telling Snape what happened—”

 

” _I can speak for myself!_ ”

 

”Can you? Only when it suits you, I guess!” Harry snaps. 

 

Draco says nothing, but through the corner of his eye Harry sees him bat a tear away from his cheek as it finally spills over. They make the rest of the trek back to the dungeons in tense silence, broken only by the rhytmic _clunk, clunk, clunk_ of Moody’s leg. 

 

The tension doesn’t ease as they enter Professor Snape’s office either, if anything it gets heavier as they line up in front of the man’s desk, glaring in resentment at the floor in front of them as Moody gives his gruff explanation of why he’s interrupted Snape’s prep time and why two of his Slytherins are standing in front of him like two puppies with their tails between their legs. 

 

”What… happened…?” Snape asks them both in his stoniest tone of voice. 

 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Professor Moody just came out of nowhere and attacked Draco. He turned him into a ferret and started bouncing him up and down on the floor.”

 

”So… You were _not_ fighting?” Snape clarifies, and his dark eyes flicker over to Moody silently. 

 

”It wasn’t a fight”, Harry says. ”More of an argument, but it was over by the time Professor Moody showed up —”

 

”I saw this one draw his wand from his pocket”, Moody growls jabbing a scarred finger in Draco’s direction.

 

”I wasn’t holding my wand”, Draco snaps. ”I just happened to have my hand in my pocket before I went to—” 

 

He cuts himself off angrily and glares at the floor again. 

 

”You went to _what_?” Snape says.

 

”Reach for Harry”, Draco grumbles quietly.

 

”I see…” Snape says coldly, then turns his whole body to face the other professor. ”A student reaching out for his friend, now that _is_ a crime… I’m surprised you didn’t haul him off to Azkaban immediately, Mad-Eye—”

 

”Don’t get smart with me, Snape”, Moody growls. ”Or one or two of my _secrets_ might slip…”

 

”Don’t ever get physical with one of my students again”, Snape counters icily. 

 

Moody sneers at him, then turns to limp out of the office again. 

 

”Draco”, Snape says, the ice melted from his voice again. ”Do you need medical attention?”

 

”No…”

 

”Yes, you do!” Harry blurts out in frustration. ”Circe, you’re stubborn! You _do_ need medical attention, you’re hurt! _I can tell_ you’re hurt!”

 

”Harry, will you accompany Draco to the Hospital Wing?” Snape says smoothly.

 

” _Yes_ ”, Harry says in exasperation. 

 

”Good. I’ll write Professor Flitwick a note explaining your absence, so once you’re done you can make your way directly to Care of Magical Creatures…”

 

”Care of Magical Creatures?” Harry repeats dully, as Snape hands them both their new schedules. ”Great. Thank you, Sir…”

 

The resentful silence between Harry and Draco returns as they make their way out of the dungeons again, but unlike the walk _there_ , this one actually helps to ease the tension between them somewhat. By the time they reach the Hospital Wing, their seething anger has simmered down to a stubborn sulk. 

 

Madam Pomfrey scowls and tuts as she fixes Draco’s bumps and bruises — and what turns out to be a small fracture on his elbow — Harry shoots Draco a look, and the blonde rolls his eyes. But as soon as the tension of pain eases from his face, his eyes soften too. 

 

”Might as well check your body mass too, while you’re here”, Madam Pomfrey says once she’s done healing him. 

 

Draco’s cheeks flush a dark pink and he glares at his feet, but stands perfectly still as the medi-witch casts another spell on him. 

 

”Good, good, you may go…” she says dismissively. 

 

Harry watches the side of Draco’s face carefully as they walk out of the Hospital Wing again. He thinks he knows what the weight check was about, and it’s not one of his bigger concerns at the moment considering what just happened in the Great Hall — Draco’s reaction to Pansy’s appearance raising every warning flag in Harry’s mind and reminding him again of what his dad tried so clumsily to warn him about at the beginning of the summer — but he figures it might be a good way to get the blonde talking to him, so he asks him about it anyway. 

 

”It’s nothing”, Draco huffs in annoyance. ”She’s just worried I’m not gaining enough weight.”

 

”Because you don’t eat”, Harry fills in the gap.

 

” _I eat_ —!” Draco snaps. 

 

”I know”, Harry says quickly. ”But she’s worried you’re not eating enough. Right?”

 

Draco scowls and says nothing. 

 

”So worried she sent a letter home to your parents last year. And that’s how your mum finally convinced your dad to loosen up about us… Am I right?”

 

”Yes…” Draco mutters.

 

Harry nods thoughtfully. 

 

”It’s not what you think…” Draco says quietly after a moment’s tense silence. ”I don’t think I’m fat or anything, I just don’t like to feel full… That’s all…”

 

”Okay…” Harry says simply. 

 

They make their way back to the Entrance Hall so they can head outside for Care of Magical Creatures. But before Draco turns the doorhandle of the massive oak doors, Harry reaches out and stops him. 

 

Draco gives him a wary look. 

 

”Listen…” Harry says seriously. ”I don’t want to fight. Last year was… just awful. I don’t want to go through that again. So if you don’t want people to know about us, or you don’t want me to hold your hand in public or whatever, then… that’s fine. I can live with it. But Draco… you have to tell me, okay? You have to tell me what you want, because I can’t read your mind.”

 

Draco swallows a couple of times, his eyes shining suspisciously. Finally he nods. 

 

”And also…” Harry continues. ”I need you to tell me honestly, right now… that there’s nothing going on with you and Pansy, because… because…” he trails off and just shakes his head. 

 

”We’re just friends”, Draco says emphatically, still looking down. ”I don’t like her that way. I don’t like _any_ girls that way, you _know_ that…”

 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry says, ducking his head to scoop up Draco’s gaze in his. ”But does she?”

 

Draco just stares at him for the longest moment, then swallows again and whispers, ”I’ll tell her…”

 

”Fine…” Harry sighs. ”Okay. Good.”

 

They trudge over the soggy lawn towards Hagrid’s hut where the Gryffindors have already assembled. They all turn their heads and stare at Harry and Draco after Hagrid waves a massive hand in greeting and Harry’s eyes lock with Ron’s briefly before the redhead turns away again. Harry flashes back to their last interaction and feels a twinge of guilt, remembering Ron’s beet read face and the hurt look in his eyes when Mr Malfoy, sitting snugly at Harry’s side, insulted Ron’s entire family in one off-handed comment. And Harry had just sat there. 

 

”There yeh are!” Hagrid’s booming voice pushes through the wind. ”Where’s the rest?”

 

”Probably on their way”, Harry replies, knowing that the walk from the Charms classroom to Hagrid’s hut is quite the trek and will take the Slytherins slightly longer than the allotted five minutes on their schedule. 

 

”Well, we be’er wait for everyone ter get here!” Hagrid says, grinning excitedly.

 

Harry’s shackles immediately go up and he quickly scans the area for any signs of blood-thirsty beasts but only finds a several wooden crates at Hagrid’s feet and he starts to relax again, until he hears what sounds like a series minor explosions coming from a few of them. Next to him, Draco jumps and takes a couple of cautious steps back.

 

”Don’t be frightened!” Hagrid exclaims happily. ”They’re not dangerous!”

 

”Ehm, what’s not dangerous, Hagrid?” Granger asks carefully, eyeing the crates.

 

”Blast-Ended Skrewts!” Hagrid says proudly, pointing at the crate nearest to him. ”Oh, all righ’ then, if the Slytherins are late it’s their funeral — go on then, gather ’round—!”

 

The Gryffindors approach the wooden crates cautiously, peering inside. 

 

”Eurgh!” Lavender Brown squeals, jumping back again. 

 

Feeling slightly reassures by this reaction — after all, if what’s inside seemed at all dangerous, surely the girl’s reaction would have been a terrified scream rather than the noise you make when you step in something nasty — Harry starts approaching the crates as well and leaning forward, he peers inside the nearest one. 

 

 _Yeah,_ eurgh _just about sums it up,_ he thinks, frowning down at the foul-smelling, slimy-looking things rattling around inside the crate. They look like a misshapen lobsters that’s had their shells torn off, their shortage of heads balanced out by an excess of legs sticking out in every direction. Harry figures thete’s about a hundred of them inside this particular crate, all scuttling and crawling over the others and bumping between the walls of the crate blindly. 

 

The small explosions that they’d heard turns out to be the result of sparks suddenly flying out of a Skrewt’s end, propelling it forward several inches. 

 

”They’ve on’y jus’ hatched”, Hagrid informs them with a motherly affection that Harry’s seen him direct at much worse creatures in the past and it therefore doesn’t surprise him in the least. ”So yeh’ll be able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project if it!”

 

”And why would we want to raise them?” Draco asks shrewdly from his vantage point behind Harry’s shoulder and Harry turns his head to see a familiar sneer, barely concealing a spark of worry in the blonde’s steel grey eyes. ”I mean, what do they _do?_ What’s the _point_ of them?”

 

Harry, wondering the same thing, turns back to Hagrid curiously. But the half-giant is frowning uncertainly, his mouth opened but, even though he’s obviously racking his brains, he can’t come up with a good answer. Finally glaring in frustration, he gruffly tells Draco that that’s next lesson and today they’re just to figure out what to feed the creatures. 

 

”I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer, so yeh’ll have ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things — I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ bit o’ grass-snake — just try ’em out with a bit o’ each!”

 

By now, the rest of the Slytherins have joined them and Seamus has bravely sidled up to Harry, but the rest keep a safe distance to the crates. 

 

” _Come on_ …” Hagrid prompts them, gesturing to the smaller crates of food. 

 

Harry takes his time walking over, waiting to see what will happen to the first Gryffindors who attempt to feed the Skrewts. Ron grabs a handful of frog liver and carefully reaches into one of the large wooden crates, while holding his nose with his other hand. Nothing seems to happen. Glancing into one of the crates, Harry can’t help but to notice the fact that the Skrewts don’t seem to have mouths, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that they won’t eat… 

 

He bends down and scoops up some bits of grass-snake and ambles over to one of the Skrewt crates, crouching down next to it warily. 

 

” _Ouch!_ ” Dean Thomas cries suddenly and everyone jumps. ”It got me! Its end exploded!” 

 

The boy cradles his burned hand to his chest and glares angrily at Hagrid who hurries over, looking slightly anxious. They both have a look at the burn on Thomas’ hand and apparently it doesn’t warrant a visit to the Hospital Wing because Hagrid almost immediately relaxes, although he does give Thomas sympathetic look. 

 

”That can sometimes happen when they blast off, I’m afraid…”

 

”Eurgh, what’s that pointy thing on it, Hagrid?” Lavender Brown says, scrunching up her nose. 

 

Hagrid quickly perks up and shuffles over to the brown-haired girl enthusiastically, babbling about stingers on what he assumes to be the males and suckers on what’s then, presumably, the females. 

 

”I think they might be ter suck blood”, he says, sounding as excited as Seamus when he’s gushing over the muggle sport of football, and receiving a similarly nonplussed reaction from his audience as well. 

 

”Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive”, Draco says sarcastically, as his hand hesitates over the crate of ant eggs. ”Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting and bite all at once?”

 

”Just because they’re not very pretty doesn’t mean they’re not useful”, Granger says haughtily. ”Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you!”

 

Draco finally abandons his attempt to reach for ant eggs — or rather he abandons the ruse of attempting to, Harry figures because he doesn’t really think Draco ever had any intention of actually getting his hands dirty, not without protective gloves — and he straightens up and glares back at the Gryffindor. 

 

”Right, silly me, I should have known we’re keeping them alive for their immense use as — of, remind me again, Granger — what are they useful for? Oh, wait, I forgot, _that’s next lesson!_ ”

 

”All righ’ yeh lot, settle down!” Hagrid says sternly. ”Malfoy, grab some of those ant eggs and get yerself over to one o’ these crates!”

 

”He can share mine”, Harry says quickly. ”Draco, I’ve already got some grass-snake.”

 

”Great…” the blonde mutters sarcastically, but makes his way over to Harry without any more fuss.

 

Blaise also joins them and crouches down at a safe distance from the crate, eyeing it indifferently as Harry reaches out and dangles half a grass-snake over the Skrewts. 

 

”Can you believe this is actually a lesson we’re having?” Draco mutters furiously. ”If my father saw this…”

 

”Could be a lot worse”, Harry counters. 

 

”That’s not an argument”, Draco insists. ”Saying things could be worse doesn’t alter the fact that they’re still quite awful as they are!”

 

”It’s not _awful_ ”, Harry huffs. ”Boring maybe, but not awful…”

 

”No, the Flobberworms were _boring_ — these are _hazardous!_ ”

 

”Not from over there, they aren’t…” Harry says, giving Draco a pointed look. ”AH!”

 

Swearing loudly, Harry drops the grass-snake’s tail and quickly snatches his burned hand away from the Skrewts. Draco and Blaise promptly jump to their feet and back several steps away from the crate, before asking him if he’s okay and Harry rolls his eyes in exasperation then twists around to give them both an unimpressed glare. 

 

Sucking on the small burn at the back of his hand, he gingerly gets to his feet and backs away from the crate as well. 


	22. Goblet of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY about the spelling mistakes! I think I've fixed them all now!
> 
> Also, I've made a new cover picture! :)

Harry and his friends have just sat down at the Slytherin table for lunch when the Weasley twins trudge past, giving Harry wary looks but stopping to say hi when he smiles at them. 

 

”How are you guys?” he asks lightly. 

 

”Fine”, they reply in unison. 

 

Then one of them — Harry thinks he’s Fred, but he can’t be sure — throws Draco a furtive glance, before turning back to Harry and telling him they’ve just had their first DADA lesson with Professor Moody. 

 

”Yeah? How was that?” Harry asks in a carefully neutral tone, well aware of Draco eavesdropping next to him. 

 

”Brilliant!” the twins say, grinning.

 

”Never had a lesson like it”, possibly-Fred adds. ”He knows what it’s like, you know?”

 

”What what’s like?”

 

”Being out there _doing it_ , fighting the Dark Arts…”

 

”He’s seen it all”, then-presumably-George interjects. 

 

”My father says he was forced to retire because he’s gone round the bend”, Draco says loudly.

 

”Yeah, well… _Still_ …” George says, with a hard look at the blonde. 

 

Both Weasleys’ make a quick excuse and bid Harry good-bye, then continue over to the Gryffindor table at the other end of the Great Hall and Harry swallows a sigh, looking over at Draco and wondering if he’ll ever be able to be friends with the Weasleys or if the bad blood between their family and the Malfoy’s is somehow automatically transferred to him as well while he’s involved with Draco…

 

”I think it’s outrageous”, the blonde mutters savagely, stabbing a sprout. ”He’s unfit to chase down Dark Wizards, but he’s fit to teach in a school…”

 

”I know…” Harry agrees calmly. 

 

”Just wait until I tell Mother about this morning… Father will have him sacked faster than he can say _’loony’_!”

 

”He might be a good teacher though”, Seamus says carefully, earning a furious glare from the blonde. ”I mean, I know he’s loopy, but it’s like those Weasley twins said, he’s seen it all _for real_ , so… if anyone will be able to tell us what it’s _really_ like…” he trails off suggestively. 

 

”I guess we’ll find out this afternoon”, Harry says. ”Double DADA with the Gryffindors.”

 

But before their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with the mad ex-Auror, they have Divination get through and as they climb through the trapdoor and step into the fuggy classroom, the scent of incense hits Harry like a wave of pungent sweetness… But as he ventures deeper inside the dim circular room, a more overpowering odour of dust and mould rises up like an underlying stench someone’s tried to cover up with a splash of perfume. Already he can feel the early signs of a headache and wonders, not for the first time, if the easy O really is worth all this… 

 

He lowers himself on a pouffe by a corner table that Draco has chosen for them. The blonde perches on the edge of a chintz chair’s seat and watches Professor Trelawny with wary eyes as the woman pulls her many frilly scarfs around her and gazes out at them through her thick glasses, her insect-like eyes blinking serenely as she waits for them all to find a seat and then settling on Harry with an all-too-familiar hint of pain. 

 

 _Here we go again_ , Harry thinks bitterly. But Trelawny doesn’t address him or predict his untimely demise, just informs them all in her mistiest voice that they will spend the autumn term considering the stars and planets. 

 

Rising out of her armchair in front of the fireplace, her many beads and bangles clinking with the movement, she sashays between them, looking like a mysterious mosquito, and talks about the celestial influence on all of their lives and destinies, which may be deciphered by those select few who can interpret the signs.

 

”You, my dear, for example”, she says to Draco, who immediately tenses up as she comes to a stop just behind his chair. ”Were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn… Am I right in saying, my dear, that you were born in mid-winter?”

 

”Early June”, Draco says quietly. 

 

A chorus of muffled titters and snickers erupts around them. 

 

”Ah yes, of course… I see now… Your pale complexion and light hair… Delicate stature… Of course, of course, I would have guessed late May, or early June, yes…” Trelawny backtracks quickly, her voice now devoid of its usual misty quality. ”Forgive me, my Inner Eye is a little preoccupied today… But _you!_ ”

 

She rounds on Harry and pins him with her huge, bug eyes and he quickly bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from cracking up and nods seriously, trying to look as though he’s hanging onto her every word with great interest.

 

”Your dark hair and mean stature… Tragic losses so young in life… Saturn must surely have been in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth!”

 

”I was born in July”, Harry says calmly. 

 

Looking extremely ruffled, Trelawny draws herself up to her full height and spins around to stalk back over to the fireplace.

 

”Open your copies of _Unfogging the Future_ to page two hundred and twelve”, she says, sounding less misty than Harry has ever heard her. 

 

Smirking to himself, he fishes the textbook out of his book bag and turns to the correct page. 

 

However, his amusement is rather short-lived, because Trelawny proceeds to hand out very complicated charts for them to fill in and the rest of the lesson is spent trying to focus on tiny writing in the dim light of the classroom and concentrate on very tedious calculations despite an intensifying headache caused by the aroma of incense. But he is determined to finish his chart before the end of the lesson, thinking hopefully (naively) that if he finishes, Trelawny won’t assign him any homework. _Well…_ Harry does manage to finish his chart — although with two Neptunes on it — but Trelawny still sets the whole class a rather massive homework assignment. 

 

”I should just drop the subject”, Harry mutters resentfully as they make their way down from the North Tower again. 

 

Draco only hums non-committally. Harry gives him a sidelong look. The blonde’s eyes are guarded and he’s got his lower lip sucked into his mouth, which is a sure sign that he’s worried and Harry realises that, despite the confidence he expressed earlier that he could easily get Professor Moody sacked with just one owl, he’s actually dreading their first lesson with ex-Auror.

 

When they reach the ground floor, they continue through the Long Gallery and make their way up a winding staircase leading them to the Serpentine Corridor on the third floor. Harry takes notice of the missing Staffroom door (the Staffroom sometimes chooses a different location depending on its mood) but is soon distracted by the sight of what looks like every single Gryffindor fourth-year lined up outside of the Defence classroom, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. 

 

Draco mutters something under his breath, but Harry ignores him. He doesn’t know what to feel. On the one hand, he’s quite excited to see what kind of lesson someone like Moody might come up with, especially after talking to the twins about it, but on the other hand, he’s just as upset about the ferret incident as Draco is and, excited though the lesson might turn out to be, he doesn’t exactly feel comfortable or safe with a teacher capable of doing something like that, and it’s hard to separate the emotions… 

 

As soon as the door of the classroom opens, the Gryffindors hurry inside and fight over the seats at the front of the class, while Harry and the rest of the Slytherins hang back, more than happy to claims the tables at the back of the classroom. 

 

Harry and Draco are just grabbing their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ from their book bags and putting them down on the table in front of them when they hear Moody’s now familiar clunking footsteps come down the corridor and then step inside the classroom. An expectant hush immediately spreads over the class and every head turns to follow the man’s limping walk up the middle aisle. Next to Harry, Draco slides down in his seat as if he’s tempted to slip below the table and hide underneath it. 

 

”You can put those books away”, Moody growls and takes his seat behind the teacher’s desk, his good eye staring down at the register while the magical one flits all over the classroom, seemingly taking note of every single detail and committing every student’s face to memory as he moves down the list of names. 

 

”Right then”, Moody says gruffly, tossing the register onto the desk. ”I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class…”

 

The brilliant blue eye swivels in its socket and fixes on Harry, and he suddenly feels a strong impulse to join Draco under the desk… 

 

”Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures”, Moody continues and the magical eye starts flitting around again. ”You’ve covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and Werewolves, is that right? Well… You’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses, so I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do _to each other_ … I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —”

 

”What, you’re not staying?” Ron blurts out. 

 

Moody’s magical eye spins round and fixes on him and for several long seconds, the whole class seems to hold its breath as one as they wait for the ex-Auror’s reaction to being interrupted… A breath they all release in one relieved _whoosh_ when a wide smile cuts through the man’s heavily scarred face and he lets out a harsh guffaw. 

 

”You’ll be Arthur’s Weasley boy, eh? Your father got me out of a tight spot the other day… Yeah, I’m staying just the one year — special favour to Dumbledore — one year, then it’s back to my quiet retirement…” he sneers, then suddenly claps his hands together loudly and the class jumps. ”So — straight to it, I think — Curses! They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry, I’m to teach you counter-curses and that’s it. I’m not supposed to show you what these illegal curses look like until your sixth year. It’s the Ministry’s opinion that you’re not old enough to deal with it ’til then, but I happen to be of a different opinion — and so is Dumbledore — we feel, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better!” 

 

Harry’s pulse steadily picks up its pace as he listens to Moody and one quick glance around the classroom tells him the rest of the class is equally excited — even Draco, although the blonde looks slightly resentful about it… 

 

”How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen?” Moody continues seriously. ”A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. So you need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Parkinson, when I’m talking…”

 

Harry looks across the aisle at Pansy who quickly stuffs a piece of parchment into her pocket, both her and Daphne blushing furiously. Apparently Moody’s magical eye can see through desktops as well as the back of his own head. 

 

”So — do any of you know which curses are the most heavily punished by wizarding law?” Moody asks, his good eye sweeping the rest of the class while the magical one keeps fixed on Pansy. ”Weasley?”

 

”Er, my dad’s told me about one… is it called the Imperius curse?”

 

”Ahh, yes…” Moody says with a knowing smirk. ”Your father _would_ know all about that curse. Gave the Ministry quite a bit of trouble a few years back… The Imperius Curse, yes… Let’s have a look—”

 

He reaches down and opens a drawer in the teacher’s desk and takes out a glass jar that he puts on top of the desk for them all to see. Inside are three large, black spiders. Moody opens the lid and reaches inside, scooping up one of the spiders into the palm of his hand, then pointing his wand straight at it he growls ” _Imperio!_ ”

 

Suddenly the spider leaps from Moody’s hand and dangles in mid-air, presumably from a thread of silk, swinging to and fro like a pendulum, faster and faster… then with a backflip, it lands on top of the desk and begins to cartwheel around in circles. The class begins to chuckle appreciatively and, when Moody flicks his wand and the spider raises itself on its two hind legs and begins to perform a tap dance, there is a scattered smatter of applause around the classroom. 

 

”Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody growls sternly. ”How would you like it if I did it to one of you?”

 

The giggles immediately quiet down and the excitement of earlier fizzles as they all exchange uncomfortable looks. 

 

”Total control”, Moody whispers, his good eye staring down at the spider as it curls up into a ball and begins to roll across the desk. ”I could make it jump out of the window… drown itself… years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards who did a lot of awful things, and they claimed to have been under the influence by the Imperius Curse when they did them, now… here’s the crux, how do we determine who’s telling the truth and who’s only pretending?”

 

No-one says anything. But Moody doesn’t really appear to be expecting anyone to either. He grabs the somersaulting spider and drops it back into the jar with the other two. 

 

”The Imperius Curse can be fought”, he tells them. ”And I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character and not everyone’s got it. Better to avoid being it with it if you can — _Constant vigilance! —_ Now, anyone know another illegal curse?”

 

A few hands shoot up and Harry isn’t surprised to see Granger’s twitching eagerly in the air, but he _is_ surprised to see Longbottom hesitantly raise his. The only class in which Harry’s ever seen the shy Gryffindor raise his hand before is in Herbology. Moody’s magical eye zeroes in on Longbottom’s puffy face too and the boy’s hand drop a few inches again as if coming to his senses. 

 

”Longbottom, isn’t it?” Moody says thoughtfully.

 

The Gryffindor nods shyly, taking his hand down finally. 

 

”Well?” Moody prompts. 

 

”Ehm, well, th-there’s one… the Cruciatus c-curse…” Longbottom says nervously. 

 

” _Yes…”_ Moody says quietly, scooping up one of the three spiders from the jar and placing it on top of the desk. ”The Cruciatus Curse… Particularly nasty… Now, I’ll need to make it a bit bigger so you’ll get the idea”, he adds, pointing his wand at the spider. ” _Engorgio._ ”

 

The spider grows to three times its original size, but continues to cower in front of Moody on the desk, its legs pulled in tight against its body. 

 

Raising his wand again, Moody points it at the spider and mutters, ” _Crucio_ …”

 

The spider begins to rock back and forth, its legs twitching wildly. Harry’s heart beats harder and harder in his chest as he stares at the small creature — images of contorted bodies silhouetted against the summer evening sky, writhing and jerking in pain, flashes through his mind — the spider shuddering more and more violently. 

 

” _Stop it!_ ” Granger’s shrill voice cuts through the heavy silence and it’s like a trance has been lifted. 

 

Moody’s good eye blinks and he lifts his wand, and the curse, finally. But the spider continues to twitch slightly, clearly still in pain. 

 

” _Reducio_ ”, he mutters, shrinking the spider back to its original size before putting it back into the jar and scooping up the third. ”Right… anyone know any others?”

 

No-one puts their hand up this time, even though Harry’s sure they all know at least one more… However, eyeing the spider on top of the desk, Harry isn’t about to offer it up and he’s certain he’s not the only one who feels that way. 

 

”No?” Moody says, grinning humourlessly at them. ”Ms Granger?”

 

Granger looks torn, but — clearly unable to resist — she takes a small, shuddering breath and mumbles something under her breath. 

 

”What’s that, Ms Granger?” Moody says, reining in his grin. 

 

”Avada k-kedavra, Sir”, she repeats a little louder, looking down at her clasped hands. 

 

”Ah yes… The Killing Curse…”

 

Harry stares apprehensively at the spider on the desk and feels a twinge in his chest as Moody raises his wand for the third time. 

 

” _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

A flash of blinding green light — exactly like Harry’s nightmares — bursts forth from Moody’s wand and hits the spider, which immediately rolls over dead. Harry stares at it, feeling far removed from himself, even though his heart is very clearly hammering wildly, almost painfully, in his chest and that’s a sensation that is _real_ , that he can _focus on_ , and still he feels like he’s floated away from his own body, away from the chair and the classroom… 

 

There’s a sudden flutter of fingertips over the knuckles of his clenched fist and he snaps back to himself again. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he tears his eyes away from the body of the dead spider and meets Draco’s eyes instead. There’s worry there, but also affection and Harry latches onto that with every ounce of his being. 

 

Moody is speaking again, Harry is aware. But even as he tries to focus on the sound of the man’s voice, it appears to reach him from a great distance. 

 

”There’s no counter-curse… no blocking it… only one person is known to have ever survived it… and he’s sitting in this room…”

 

Both of Moody’s eyes flit to Harry’s and he suddenly finds himself stuck in an eye-lock with the man, and even as he feels every head in the classroom turn and stare at him and he wants nothing more than to duck his head or hide completely, Harry can’t look away. 

 

He feels Draco’s fingers curl over his knuckles under the desk and squeeze his fist gently. 

 

”Now, if there’s no counter-curse”, Moody says. ”Why am I showing you? _Because you’ve got to know!_ CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

 

”Simply outrageous!” Draco says as soon as the class has been dismissed and they’re out of earshot. 

 

He glares back at the classroom door over his shoulder, but Harry catches his eyes dart worriedly to his own several times. 

 

”He’s kind of right though”, he says with an uncomfortable shrug. ”How are we supposed to defend ourselves against curses we don’t know…”

 

”This isn’t Auror training, it’s Hogwarts!” Draco says savagely. ”It’s completely irresponsible. Those curses are illegal, they’re unforgivable, and he just performed them in a classroom, just like that!”

 

”Yeah, I suppose…”

 

 

*

 

 

He’s running through the woods. His heart is lodged in his throat and his lungs are screaming, but he can’t stop, they have to keep going… Draco is stumbling along after him. Harry can hear his panting breaths, like half-sobs punctuating the dense silence. _Why is it so silent?_ There should be noises: leaves rustling, animals scurrying, yelping, cooing, growling, but there’s nothing just… Laughter in the distance, like a ghostly echo far away and it doesn’t sound happy at all, it barely sounds human… 

 

Draco’s clammy hand is clutched tightly in his; he keeps dragging him along and even as he feels the blonde stumble and fall to his knees several times, he doesn’t stop or even pause, he just keeps pulling on his arm… They have to keep moving, have to get away… _Where? Where can they go?_  

 

Harry doesn’t know; he doesn’t know where they are, if he’s even running in the right direction. He can’t make out anything but the faint outline of trees in the darkness. He just knows he has to _keep moving_ …

 

Suddenly Draco’s hand slips out of his and he’s clutching empty night air; he stumbles as he turns and falls over… _Draco?_ he calls, scanning the darkness behind him in alarm. _Draco?_

 

There’s no reply, everything is deadly quiet — except for the laughter that keeps echoing all around him — and then there are ghostly white faces looming out of the darkness, all around him, quietly grinning skulls surrounding him on all sides and he spins around in panic… The laughter keeps getting closer, but it doesn’t seem to be coming from any of the faces… _They’re not faces,_ he realises with a pang, _they’re masks_ …

 

_Where’s Draco? What have you done with him?_

 

 _Harry…_  

 

He wheels around, heart hammering painfully and stares as one of the masks moves closer to him. He can make out a body behind it now, clad in black robes that billow in the breeze, and yet he can’t here them rustle… The mask suddenly turns into smoke and fades away into the darkness, and Harry finds himself staring into a real face, almost as white but definitely not grinning, but sneering… A long mane of white-blonde hair falls down over the black-clad shoulders… 

 

_Harry!_

 

Lucius reachers behind him and grabs something, pulls it forcefully forward and propels it into the space between them; it’s Draco, his tear-streaked face shining up at Harry as he kneels on the forest floor him and his father; his long, slender fingers curl into trembling fists in front of him and Lucius grip tightens on his neck…

 

 _Harry_ , he cries — but his lips don’t move.

 

 _Harry Potter,_ another voice whispers behind him suddenly and Harry feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand at the icy hiss… _No_ , he thinks numbly… Like a mantra in time to the pounding of his own pulse… _No, no, no… Not you…_

 

Turning around slowly, Harry stares hopelessly as the masked figures step back to create a semi-circle in front of him, leaving just a small opening through which another hooded figure steps silently… He’s not wearing a masks, he doesn’t even have a face at all, just a pair of scarlet eyes that burn into Harry…

 

 _Don’t be a fool, Harry Potter,_ Lord Voldemort hisses, _you can’t win, I will have him… and you… before the end…_

 

Harry stares in paralysing panic as Voldemort raises a wand and whispers, _Avada Kedavra…_

 

A blindingly bright, green light bursts forth and envelops Harry, but… _Wait… I’m okay, I’m alive_ … He let out a half-chuckle of relief, but as he opens his eyes again and sees the grinning faces all around him, it sticks in his throat… _No,_ he thinks numbly, spinning around…

 

_No! Draco, NO—!_

 

”Harry! _Harry!_ ”

 

Startling awake, Harry scrambles up to sitting. For a heart-stopping second, as Draco’s pale face looms out of the darkness before him, he thinks he might still be dreaming and frantically moves back towards the headboard of his four-poster. But as the last remnants of sleep fall away from him and the blonde’s warm hands on top of his clammy arms register, he realises what must have happened… He must have woken Draco up…

 

”I’m — s-sorry —” he gasps. 

 

”Don’t be silly”, Draco whispers, mopping up the cold sweat on his arms by rubbing soothing circles over them. ”Come on… It’s okay… I’ll get you a new pair of pyjamas.”

 

Harry nods numbly, pulling the soaked tee off with shaking hands. He shivers violently as soon as the cold night air hits his damp skin, but then Draco is back and putting a clean, dry t-shirt over his head and rubbing his arms again. 

 

”Here…” he murmurs, pressing a pair of pyjama bottoms into his hands. 

 

Harry peels his wet pyjamas and pants off awkwardly and drops them to the floor with a wet flop, before pulling on the new pair. 

 

”Feel better?” Draco whispers. 

 

He nods and is just about to say good night, when the blonde climbs under the covers with him. Harry blinks in confusion. Without his glasses on, he can’t make out the other boy’s features enough to read him. But Draco just grabs him by the wrist and pulls gently, urging him to lie back down. Harry burrows down next to the other boy and feels his heart begin to pound again as their hot bodies press together.

 

”We’re just going to sleep”, Draco whispers. 

 

”Y-Yeah, o’ c-c-course…” Harry stammers breathlessly. 

 

Draco loops a leg over Harry’s and then an arm over his chest, bringing them even closer together and Harry tries not to focus too much on the feeling of Draco’s crotch pressed against his hip. He gingerly brings his arm up to drape over Draco’s, hugging him a little closer and concentrates instead on the comforting weight of Draco’s head resting over his heart. 

 

Lulled back to sleep by the other boy’s steady breathing, Harry manages to get a few hours of undisrupted sleep finally and when he wakes up, the dorm is lit up by the torches on the walls and the dim, green light from the windows and he actually feels quite rested. He stretches languidly, feeling around for the other boy’s body next to him but he’s alone in the bed again. 

 

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and reaches for his glasses on the nightstand. Draco is standing next to the bed, dressed already, and when he bends down to plant a butterfly kiss on Harry’s lips, Harry gets a whiff of his coconut shampoo.

 

”Morning”, Draco murmurs, his blonde hair dripping into Harry’s face before he straightens up again. ”Come on, get up. I’m hungry…”

 

”Yeah?” Harry grins. ”Maybe you should sleep in my bed more often…”

 

Draco rolls his eyes and whacks him in the face with his pillow, muffling his laugh.

 

”Come _on_ …” 

 

”Fine, don’t get your wand in a knot…” Harry mutters, still chuckling quietly.

 

When the mail arrives, Harry instinctively scans the ceiling for Hedwig but then he remembers he’s yet to write home and tell his dads the dates of this year’s Hogsmeade weekends and makes a mental note to jot them down later this afternoon, knowing they have a free period after lunch and Draco wants to spend it in the Common Room to complete their homework for Charms and Divination anyway. 

 

Harry is vaguely aware of the blonde receiving the _Daily Prophet_ from one of the newspaper’s official delivery owls and absent-mindedly moves his porridge bowl out of the way as he unfolds it and begins to leaf through it quickly. 

 

Looking up at the enchanted ceiling again, Harry notes the blue sky and the idea of spending the afternoon shut inside the Common Room doing Divinations homework feels even less appealing… _Maybe I can persuade Draco to come outside and go flying instead_ , he thinks hopefully. 

 

”Hah…” the blonde says next to him. 

 

Harry blinks and turns around. The blonde is grinning smugly and Harry quickly looks down at the paper to see what’s got him in such a good mood… 

 

”FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC”, he reads the headline, then cranes his neck and tilts his head awkwardly to read the smaller print of the actual article, as Draco looks up and stares around him eagerly. 

 

With a sinking feeling, Harry skims the article, ”Poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup… further embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley… involved with a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (’policemen’) over a number of highly aggressive dustbins… aid of ’Mad-Eye’ Moody, the aged ex-Auror…”

 

”Weasley!” Draco exclaims happily. ”Hey, Weasley!”

 

Harry looks up as well to see a red-faced Ron and an apprehensive Granger stopped halfway towards the Gryffindor table, glaring back at Draco. 

 

”What?” Ron says shortly.

 

Grinning excitedly, Draco snatches the _Prophet_ away from Harry and narrowly misses cuffing him in the chin with its’ corner in his haste to wave it at the Gryffindors.

 

”Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley! Listen to this!”

 

Feeling a twinge in his chest, Harry looks between Draco’s smug face as he begins to read the article out loud and Ron’s steadily darkening face as he listens. 

 

”Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley”, Draco comments lightly, to the appreciative snickers of the other Slytherins. ”It’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?” 

 

Harry shoots Seamus, Blaise and Theodore a glare as they laugh. Seamus gives him an apologetic shrug, even as he keeps grinning. Draco straightens out the paper again ceremoniously and resumes reading, but Harry slams his hand down on top of it and it crumbles between their hands. Draco turns to glare at him, but Harry returns the look stubbornly. 

 

”That’s enough…” he says quietly. 

 

”Oh no, they’re going to fight again…” Blaise drawls. ”I’m off…”

 

He and Seamus jump to their feet and saunter out of the Great Hall, Seamus ’accidentally’ knocking his shoulder against Ron’s as they walk past him and Granger. Draco snatches the paper back from Harry and holds it up again, but this time he turns it around as intending for Ron to continue reading the article on his own. 

 

”There’s a picture too, Weasley!” he says loudly. ”There’s a picture of your parents outside their house—”

 

”Come on, Ron… It’s not worth it…” Granger says, pulling a trembling Ron along.

 

”—if you can call it a house—!”

 

”That’s _enough!_ ” Harry snaps. 

 

”What’s _your_ problem?” Draco demands, finally putting the paper down again. 

 

”Nothing, I just don’t think it’s funny!”

 

”Of course you don’t”, Draco snaps sourly. ”Not when it’s about your precious Weasel…”

 

”You’re the only rodent around here!” a voice hollers from the Gryffindor table.

 

Harry and Draco both turn to see the Weasley twins grin as a chorus of chortles and snickers erupts around them. Draco crumbles the paper in his hand and clambers to his feet angrily. The roar of cackles and whoops from the Gryffindors rise and some clap their hands tauntingly as Draco storms out of the Great Hall. 

 

Swallowing a sigh, Harry gets to his feet as well and runs after him. 

 

”You started it…” he reminds the blonde as he sidles up to him. 

 

”Piss off”, Draco snaps angrily. 

 

They continue walking to the Potions classroom in silence. Harry figures it’s probably better to just let the other boy cool down on his own and if he doesn’t, Harry thinks wryly, then watching Professor Snape torment Longbottom will surely do the trick…

 

Even though their OWLs are a year away, the teachers seem to think they’re running out of time judging by the amount of homework they keep piling on them, none so effective and sinister as Professor Snape, who has made an artform of instilling fear and respect in his students. At the end of their first Potions lesson, he simply tells them to research anti-dotes in their spare time, then hints about his intention to poison one of them just before Christmas and tells them all to make sure they cover as many anti-dotes as possible, to give themselves a fighting chance…

 

Even Divination and Care Of Magical Creatures, the two subjects that Harry used to think of as a reprieve from the other, serious ones, has become arduous and time-consuming. Care Of Magical Creatures of all things, he thinks incredulously. All they do all lesson is try and persuade a bunch of exploding, stinging crabs to eat and although nothing seems appetising to the Skrewts, they still keep growing at an alarming rate, something that the students find quite worrisome but has Hagrid grinning like a little boy at Christmas, and as part of their ’project’, as he puts it, they should all come down to his hut on alternate evenings and study the creatures. 

 

”I will not”, Draco says contemptuously, before Harry shushes him discreetly. 

 

”Yeh’ll do wha’ yer told”, Hagrid says gruffly. ”Or I’ll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody’s book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy…”

 

The Gryffindors burst out laughing, some pointing at Draco’s face as it pales at the suggestion before quickly growing pink with anger and embarrassment. 

 

Harry frowns at the half-giant, but bites his tongue before sticking up for Draco, knowing that the blonde won’t appreciate it in this moment anyway because it will only continue to highlight a memory he rather everybody just forget. So instead Harry tries to change the subject and asks Hagrid if he wants them to document their studies of the Skrewts as well, or if it’s just for fun… He struggles to keep a straight face as he adds the last part, not wanting to sound sarcastic. But fortunately, Hagrid is so enamoured with the creatures himself, that he readily buys the idea that anyone else might find it fun to study them as well. He tells Harry that it’s an excellent idea to write down their findings and maybe even draw some sketches of the creatures. 

 

Harry gives the half-giant a pinched smile and nods politely. Then as soon as he turns away to continue the lesson, Harry discreetly lets his pinky finger brush Draco’s before taking a half step away from him. 

 

When they return to the castle at the end of the lesson, a rather large crowd of students are gathered in the Entrance Hall and blocking the way to the dungeons. 

 

”What’s going on?” Seamus mutters next to Harry, who shrugs. 

 

The Irish boy is the only boy in their year who is just as short as Harry, although technically he’s still half an inch taller, but — Harry was pleased to notice as they hung out in the summer — he hasn’t grown much at all since the end of the last school year, whereas Harry has grown at least three inches… _So I should be taller than him before long,_ Harry thinks hopefully.

 

But until such time, he stands half an inch shorter than him and at least a head shorter than Draco and Blaise, so he turns expectantly to the two of them now. 

 

”They’ve put up a sign”, Blaise says, standing on tip-toe and craning his neck to see over the heads of the students in front of them. ”It’s about the Triwizard Tournament, but I can’t read what it says…”

 

Draco huffs softly and proceeds to weave his way to the front of the crowd in his usual dainty manner. Harry smirks wryly, watching him go… As if he’s wading through water, the other students trickle aside and unconsciously make way for him without even realising he’s cutting in front of them… 

 

After a few minutes he comes back and informs them that the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will arrive a week from now, on the evening of Friday the 30th, and all their lessons will end half an hour early so that they may greet them in the courtyard outside before the Welcoming Feast. 

 

”That’s exciting, isn’t it?” Harry says happily, his mind flashing to Viktor Krum performing the Wronksi Feint. 

 

Draco gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

In the week that follows the Triwizard Tournament is the sole topic of conversation in the castle and not only about the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, but also about the Tournament itself with everything from speculations about the dangerous tasks to would be submitting themselves to be chosen as Hogwarts Champion. 

 

”Too bad there’s an age restriction”, Seamus comments idly on Thursday evening in the Common Room. ”Or Harry could enter. It’d be cool if Hogwarts was represented by a Slytherin, wouldn’t it? I mean, we’ve got The Boy Who Lived, but it’s always nice to be current, isn’t it —”

 

”Shut up, Finnigan”, Draco snaps. 

 

”Shut up yourself, I’m only joking!”

 

”Well, you’re not funny!”

 

”Guys — enough”, Harry says tiredly. 

 

If the other two boys have heard him, they ignore it and continue sniping at each other. Sighing heavily, Harry tries to refocus on his Divinations homework, but it’s no use. Even if the Common Room was silent as the grave he wouldn’t be able to focus on Divination, jittery as he is about their guests arriving the next evening.

 

”All right, that’s it — I need a break”, he says finally, snapping his textbook shut and standing up. 

 

Draco and Seamus stop quibbling immediately and look up at him in surprise. 

 

”I’m going for a walk”, he adds. ”Can you watch my stuff if I leave them here?”

 

”Where are you going?” Draco asks, sounding nearly alarmed at the idea of Harry going anywhere. 

 

”For a walk”, Harry repeats slowly. ”I need some fresh air, I won’t be long…”

 

As he reaches the Entrance Hall, he can see the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan standing in front of the sign with the information about the arrival of the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, muttering quietly amongst themselves. 

 

Steeling himself, Harry walks up to them with determination. 

 

”Heya Fred, George, Lee…” he says brightly. 

 

The three sixth years wheel around quickly, looking startled until they realise it’s him. 

 

”Harry…” the twins greet him in unison, looking both relieved and a little apprehensive. 

 

”Let me guess”, Harry says with a grin. ”You’re planning to enter your names despite the age restriction?”

 

A wry smile twists one of the twins’ lips, while the other and Lee quickly look around to make sure no-one else is around. 

 

”I won’t tell anyone”, Harry adds. ”How are you going to do it?”

 

”Simple ageing potion. We only need to age a few months… Why, you want in?”

 

”No, thanks”, Harry says shaking his head. ”Better you than me… Hey, listen. About the World Cup…”

 

The twins faces instantly fall and their eyes shutter, but they stay silent. Lee Jordan looks between them both with wary eyes, obviously not used to seeing his friends so serious. Harry swallows thickly and takes a deep breath. 

 

”I’m really sorry you had to hear that — I mean — what Mr Malfoy said to your dad, it was out of order.”

 

”Yeah, it was”, one of the twins says curtly. 

 

”Well, I’m sorry”, Harry says again, stomach churning. ”I would never — _I’m_ not — _I_ don’t think that way.”

 

The hard look in the Weasley’s eyes melts slightly and they nod. 

 

”Harry, mate… Do you mind if we ask you a question, though?” the other twin says. ”How can you be friends with that git?”

 

”Who?” Harry says, frowning. ”Draco? He’s not a _git_ —!”

 

He’s immediately met by three pairs of disbelieving eyes and he huffs, shifting his weight awkwardly, remembering the incident in the Great Hall and realising he’ll never be able to convince anyone from outside of Slytherin that Draco isn’t _actually_ like that… 

 

 _He is though_ , a voice at the back of Harry’s mind pipes up. _You know he is, stop making excuses for him._

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks fiercely. _He’s not_ always _like that. He’s not Lucius!_

 

”Look… I know he can act like a git sometimes, but there’s another side to him as well and… And I get if you don’t care about that or even believe it, but…” he trails off with a sigh. ”But that’s who I’m friends with… Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know I felt awful about the World Cup and… And the other day as well… Anyway, I guess I’ll see you around…”

 

The next day — Friday the 30th, the day of the arrival — trickles past at a snail’s pace and Harry, like the rest of the students, finds himself throwing furtive looks at the clock or out the windows every other minute to try and determine how much longer until six o’clock… Finally, in their second to last lesson of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts, they’re all sufficiently distracted however, when Professor Moody clears a big space in the middle of the classroom and tells them he’s going to put them each under the Imperius Curse so that they may know what it feels like. 

 

A stunned silence hangs over the class and they all exchange wide-eyed looks of disbelief and astonishment. Harry sees a small frown on defiance on Draco’s face and is surprised — even proud — to see the boy open his mouth to speak up, but before he’s said as much as a word, another voice speaks up from the opposite side of the classroom and the blonde shuts his mouth again with a snap, staring over at Granger who’s got her hand twitching in the air as always. 

 

”Sir, you said it’s illegal — you said yourself, to use any of these curses on another human being —”

 

”Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like”, Moody says gruffly, his magical eyes spinning around and fixing steadily on the frizzy-haired girl. ”But if you rather learn the hard way, when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely, fine by me! You’re excused — off you go!”

 

He points a gnarly finger at the door of the classroom. The girl’s face flushes a bright pink and she stammers something about not meaning she wanted to leave, then falls silent. 

 

Harry gives Draco a questioning look, wondering if he will leave. But the other boy just hangs back when Moody tells them all to line up, watching warily as one by one their classmates are put under the Imperius and made to do the oddest things, like imitating animals or performing amazing tricks or acrobatics they would never normally be able to do. 

 

” _Potter!_ ” Moody says suddenly, making Harry jump. ”You’re up!”

 

Draco gives Harry an alarmed look, but Harry gives him a quick smile and makes his way to the front and into the space that Moody has cleared of desks. He lifts his head and meets the man’s eyes — both of them — head on, steeling himself as the man raises his wand and points it straight at his head. 

 

” _Imperio_ …”

 

Having half-expected to feel pain or some kind of discomfort at least, Harry is pleasantly surprised to feel nothing but lightness… Tensions he wasn’t even aware of having lift from his shoulders and his mind goes blank in the most pleasant way imaginable, every distressing thought and worry — every homework deadline, the Death Eater, the Dark Mark, Draco’s parents, Pansy, the animosity between the Weasleys and Draco, all of it — gets wiped from his mind, leaving nothing but a nice, airy space, like a clear sky on a beautiful spring day… 

 

And then he hears Professor Moody’s voice, from a great distance but still perfectly clear: _Jump onto the desk… jump onto the desk…_

 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Harry bends his knees in preparing, but then he stops himself and thinks _Why though?_

 

_Jump onto the desk…_

 

Shaking his head slightly as if to shake the voice out, Harry frowns to himself.

 

_Jump onto the desk!_

 

 _No_ , he thinks, _that’s a stupid thing to do —_

 

_JUMP ONTO THE DESK!_

 

_No, I don’t want to —_

 

 _JUMP!_ NOW —!

 

An explosion of pain in his knees shocks him out of the trance and he blinks tears from his eyes, looking around in confusion as Moody crows ”Now _that’s_ more like it!”

 

The empty sensation lifts from Harry’s mind and the pain in his knees and back are doubled. He’s lying on his back on top of the overturned desk, and realises he must have jumped after all — except, since he’d tried to resist the impulse the whole time, he must have ended up simply charging the desk head on, knocking it over and falling on top of it — which would explain the severe pain in both his legs and back. 

 

Draco pushes a couple Gryffindors out of the way and leans over him, offering him a hand up. Harry winces in pain as he straightens his legs. 

 

”Potter fought!” Moody continues happily. ”He fought it and he damn near beat it too! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that’s where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you all right! Now, ready—?”

 

”You’re joking!” Draco splutters. ”What, _now?_ He’s hurt—!”

 

”It’s okay!” Harry says quickly, as a deep scowl contorts Moody’s face and the magical eye flits over to Draco. ”I’m fine… Really…”

 

An hour later, as he hobbles out of the classroom leaning heavily on Draco, with spiking pain radiating from both knees and a dull throbbing in his lower back, Harry regrets ever having said such a thing. Moody had insisted on putting him under the Curse four times in a row, until he could throw it off completely, and he’s now feeling the effects in his body as well as his head, which has started throbbing as well. 

 

Draco mutters something about telling his father, but Harry tunes him out. He doubts Lucius Malfoy would care very much that Harry’s had some bumps and bruises as a result of Moody’s unorthodox teachings… His own dads on the other hand… 

 

They make their way down to the dungeons for their last lesson of the day — Potions — and line up outside the classroom. Harry continues to lean on Draco as they wait, even though he could just as easily lean against the wall. But Draco doesn’t seem to mind, for once. Probably because he’s too angry to reflect on what it might look like to the other students. 

 

”I can’t believe Dumbledore is allowing this!” Draco hisses furiously. ”It’s _outrageous!_ ”

 

”Mm…” Harry agrees absent-mindedly. 

 

When he hears the echo of approaching footsteps, Harry quickly pushes away from Draco and starts to pretend to be fine, but it’s too late… Professor Snape swoops down on his with eyes narrowed into suspicious slits, quickly sweeping down his body and taking stock of his posture and the obvious tensions of pain. 

 

”What did you do now?” the Potions Master asks quietly. 

 

”Nothing”, Harry says with an incredulous frown. ”Just been to class.”

 

”What class?” Snape demands. 

 

”Defence Against the Dark Arts —”

 

”Professor”, Draco interjects. ”Professor Moody put him under the Imperius Curse, Sir! _Five times!_ ”

 

Professor Snape’s eyes flash dangerously as he looks between the two of them, but he says nothing. Straightening up, he sweeps his glare over the rest of the class and barks at them to get inside the classroom already. The students jump and hurry to open the classroom door and scuttle inside. Harry gives Snape a questioning look. 

 

”One moment, Harry…” he says quietly. ”Draco, you can go ahead… Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing, Harry? You’re clearly in pain.”

 

”I’m okay, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. ”Just a little sore…”

 

”What did he make you do?”

 

”He tried to get me to jump onto a desk, but I resisted and sort of jumped into it instead… Four times…”

 

Snape considers him silently for a second, then nods. 

 

”And your head?”

 

Harry blinks in surprise. _How did he know I have a headache?_

 

”Do you require a Restoration Potion?”

 

”Ehm, I — I think I’m okay — thank you, Sir.”

 

”It’s okay _not_ to be okay sometimes, you know”, Snape mutters with a knowing frown. 

 

Harry feels his cheeks flush and ducks his head. He hears rather than sees Snape sigh and imagines him rolling his eyes. 

 

”Come on…”

 

Snape clamps his hand down on Harry’s shoulder and steers him into the classroom, then more or less presses him into the nearest seat and stomps over to his desk, pulling at the drawers until he finds a small phial that he places in front of Harry without another word, then turns to the rest of the class and starts barking out orders for today’s lesson. 

 

Harry uncorks the small phial and takes a sip. As soon as he’s swallowed the surprisingly sweet potion, his headache disperses like mist under the noon sun and he feels invigorated and ready to start brewing — which he tells Draco eagerly and receives a funny look in response — the blonde points to the black board at the front of the class, where the ingredients for the lesson’s potion has magically appeared, and tells Harry to get the cauldron started while he goes to the store cupboard. 

 

”Okay!” Harry says brightly. 

 

”What did Professor Snape _give_ you? Vitamix?” Draco mutters, but walks away before Harry can reply. 

 

Because of the impending arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the lesson is cut short by half an hour and Professor Snape instructs them all to leave their cauldrons at the back of the class and put a Stasis Charm on them. 

 

”If anyone is still _incapable_ of performing such a rudimentary charm…” he says coldly, with a withering look at Longbottom. ”Leave your cauldron where it is and _I_ will do it _for_ you… Dismissed!”

 

Harry waits outside the Potions Classroom with the rest of the Slytherins until the Gryffindors have all disappeared round the corner of the dungeon corridor, before approaching the hidden entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. Then hurrying to their dorms, they deposit their book bags and grab their cloaks and hats, before heading up to the Entrance Hall, where the four Heads of Houses are waiting for them. 

 

Harry and his friends make a beeline for Professor Snape who promptly instructs them to line up, but let the first-years come to the front. They all look around and swiftly start ushering all the short, baby-faced and scared-looking boys and girls in Slytherin ties to the front. One girl yelps when Pansy grabs the hood of her cloak, her arms flailing in protest as he whimpers ”I’m in second year!”

 

”Oh… Sorry…” Pansy mutters, letting go of the girl’s hood again. 

 

When the Heads of Houses have finished their head counts satisfactorily, they lead the students outside into the cold, clear evening air and instruct them all to line up below the front steps. There’s a charged sense of excitement and anticipation in the air as they all eagerly scan the darkening school grounds and the starry sky — because no-one knows for sure by which means the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive, but since you can’t Apparate within Hogwarts grounds it seems just as likely that they’ll be flying on broomsticks as come in any type of vehicle driving up from Hogsmeade — for any sign of their guests. 

 

Then finally, Dumbledore — standing amongst the rest of the teachers at the top of the stairs behind them — exclaims, ”Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

 

The excitement amongst the students spikes, but Harry can’t see any movement anywhere on the drive leading down to the front gates, or beyond, so he looks up at the sky again. But there is nothing there either… 

 

”There!” someone cries, pointing towards the Dark Forest and everyone’s eyes flit in the same direction. 

 

The waning gibbous moon can be seen just over the tops of the trees and in its pale light, Harry suddenly sees a large silhouette moving steadily towards them. 

 

”It’s a dragon!” a first-year girl shrieks. 

 

”Don’t be stupid, it’s a flying house!” another first-year contradicts her. 

 

There’s a ripple of snickers and snorts amongst the older students and Harry shakes his head in amusement. But as the silhouette gets closer, it turns out that the second first-year’s guess wasn’t too far off the mark… It’s not technically a house, but the horse-drawn carriage is certainly the size of one… And the dozen winged palomino horses tethered to it are all the size of elephants… They all come soaring towards them and touch down at alarming speed, causing the carriage to land with great _crash_ that makes them all flinch. 

 

The door of the carriage opens and a boy in pale blue robes appears. He doesn’t seem to take any notice of his audience, but goes about his business bending over to fumble with something on the floor of the carriage and in the next moment a set of golden steps have unfolded and the boy jumps back and disappears from view again. Instead, a woman appears in the door — and she is by far the largest woman Harry has ever seen in his life, larger in fact than any _man_ he’s ever seen as well, with the possible exception of Hagrid, but he can’t be sure… 

 

As she reaches the foot of the golden stairs and steps into the light spilling out from inside the castle, they get a good look at the black satin robes hugging her body and the many opals gleaming around her neck and on each of her olive fingers. She smiles serenely at the slightly wide-eyed audience, but her large, black eyes sweeps past them almost at once and settles on a point above their heads.

 

Harry turns around and sees Professor Dumbledore smile back at her, then begin to clap. Many of the students hurry to copy and the smile on the woman’s face grows. 

 

”My dear Madam Maxime”, Dumbledore says. ”Welcome to Hogwarts!”

 

”Dumbly-dorr, I ’ope I find you well?” the woman, Madam Maxime, says in a velvety voice. 

 

”On excellent form, I thank you!”

 

”My pupils…” she says, gesturing idly behind her. 

 

Harry turns in surprise and notice a dozen boys and girls in their late teens now standing just behind Madam Maxime, all shivering in their thin, sil robes and gazing up at the castle with unimpressed frowns on their faces. 

 

The Hogwarts students politely clears a path for the woman and her students and they climb the steps and disappear into the warmth of the castle, while they stay outside to wait for the Durmstrang delegation. Shivering slightly himself, Harry wishes they would hurry up and get here already so that he too may head inside. 

 

Then slowly, he becomes aware of a noise somewhere in the distance… a muffled rumbling followed by a sucking sort of sound… 

 

”Do you hear that?” he whispers to Draco who immediately nods. ”Where’s it coming—?”

 

” _The lake!_ ” Lee Jordan shouts suddenly. 

 

Everyone turns to stare at the large lake where the smooth, black surface suddenly begins move as though boiling; large bubbles rise to the surface and great big waves lap at the shore as a massive whirlpool is formed in the middle of the lake… What appears to be a black pole emerges from the eye of the whirlpool and continues to rise steadily, but then Harry sees the rigging and realises it’s a ship’s mast and sure enough… Within moments, a whole ship has risen out of the heart of the lake and lies bobbing for a few seconds in the still turbulent water, before it starts to move towards the shore. 

 

A group of young men make their way from the ship and up the slope to the castle — they’re all boys and all rather tall and broad-shouldered, Harry notices — lead by a man wearing sleek silver furs, matching his short hair and curling goatee. 

 

”Dumbledore!” he exclaims. ”How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

 

”Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff”, Dumbledore replies jovially and extends his hand in greeting as  the small party finally reaches them. 

 

Karkaroff shakes Dumbledore’s hand in both of his and looks up at the castle with a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Harry can’t help but notice the very yellow tint to his teeth. 

 

”…Viktor, come along, into the warmth”, he says suddenly, waving one of the boys to him. 

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat as none other than _Viktor Krum_ emerges from the small crowd and obediently joins his teacher’s side. Several people gasp and others begin to whisper furiously, but if the boy notices he doesn’t let on.

 

Once everyone has walked inside the castle and filed into the Great Hall, the Hogwarts students take their seats at their respective House tables and Ravenclaw join the Beauxbatons students who apparently chose their table to sit at while the rest of them were still waiting outside. They still seem to be shivering, despite having been inside for a good half hour by now and a few of them have even wrapped frilly scarves around their shoulders and heads. 

 

The Durmstrang students continue to hover uncertainly just inside the doors, clearly unsure of where to sit and their Head Teacher, Karkaroff, seems none to concerned and simply joins Dumbledore and the other teachers at the Head Table. 

 

Harry keeps looking over at Krum, feeling oddly star-struck, and his heart lurches pleasantly when the other boy suddenly looks over and, for one brief second, their eyes lock before the older boy continues to sweep his eyes over the rest of the Slytherin table. Clearly liking what he sees, he starts to make his way over and the rest of the Durmstrang boys quickly follows. 

 

”Look at Weasley’s face…” Draco says smugly. 

 

Harry looks over at the Gryffindor table and catches Ron’s envious look before the redhead quickly looks away again. He’s not the only one though. In fact, it seems like every student at both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables are either glaring at the Slytherins or making moon eyes at Krum. Throwing another furtive look at the boy’s sharp profile, Harry realises he can probably be counted amongst the latter. 

 

”Krum, isn’t it?” Draco greets smoothly, extending his hand to the older boy like it’s no big deal at all, like he meets international Quidditch stars every day. ”I’m Draco Malfoy…”

 

”Pleasure”, Krum grunts and shakes his hand. 

 

Then before Harry knows how it’s happened or had time to emotionally prepare himself for it at all, Krum’s dark eyes have flitted over to his and his hand is looming in front of his face. 

 

”You are Harry Potter, yes?”

 

”Erm, y-yeah, yes!” Harry says, hurrying to grasp the boy’s hand and nearly getting his own crushed for his troubles. 

 

Suddenly five other hands are also thrust towards him, as the other Durmstrang boys sitting close enough to reach him want to shake his hand too. They’re all staring at him in awe, their eyes flitting between his glasses and the scar on his forehead. Harry shakes all of their hands awkwardly, feeling very confused. 

 

”Ve have read about you”, Krum tells him. 

 

Harry simply blinks at him, sure he must have misheard.

 

”I told you”, Draco murmurs. ”You’re mentioned in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ …”

 

”What?” Harry hisses. 

 

Draco opens his mouth to speak again, but at that moment Professor Dumbledore stands up at the podium in front of the Head Table, so he just shakes his head. 

 

”Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests!” Dumbledore says in a loud, carrying voice and twinkles down at them all. ”I have the great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable! Now, the Tournament will officially begin at the end of the feast, but in the meantime, I invite you all to eat, drink and make yourself at home!”

 

With one last smile at the students, Dumbledore sweeps around and resumes his seat in the middle of the Head Table and immediately Karkaroff leans in to strike up a conversation with him. 

 

Harry turns back to Draco, even as he starts shovelling food onto his plate and hisses, ”You never told me I’m mentioned in any books!”

 

”Yes, _I did”,_ the blonde says in exasperation. ”The first time you mentioned James and Lily Potter, I said I’d read about them in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts!_ ”

 

”Oh… Right…” Harry mumbles, remembering the moment vaguely now. 

 

”You _still_ haven’t read them?” Draco asks.

 

”Why would I read them?” Harry counters sourly, stabbing at his Shepard’s Pie. 

 

”I’m sorry. Ve meant no offence…” Krum says suddenly, his bushy black eyebrows furrowing further as he looks between the two of them. 

 

”It’s fine”, Harry says quickly and gives him a pinched smile. 

 

As they’ve polished off their main courses and al manner of puddings have appeared in front of them on the tables, the teachers at the Head Table are joined by Ludo Bagman and a rather lanky old wizard with a toothbrush moustache and a what appears to be a permanent scowl on his face. 

 

”The moment has come”, Dumbledore announces, standing up once more. ”The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket… just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation—” 

 

The wizard in toothbrush moustache gives a grim nod as a modest smatter of applause erupts around the Hall. 

 

”—and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

 

A much louder and more enthusiastic round of applause breaks out and Bagman waves happily at them. 

 

”Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have both worked tirelessly over the past few months on the arrangements of the Tournament and will join myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime on the panel which will be judging the three champions… Now, the casket then, if you please, Mr Filch.”

 

Filch hobbles into view carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels that he places in front of Dumbledore on top of the Head Table. Harry cranes his neck curiously, staring at the chest… it looks ancient and he wonders what could possible be inside it. 

 

Dumbledore goes on to explain about the three tasks of the Tournament, all of which have been pre-approved and prepared for by Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch, but the three champions — one from each of the participating schools — will be chosen by an impartial selector… Harry frowns at the chest, wondering if the impartial selector is inside the chest or if the chest itself is somehow in possession of such abilities, like the Sorting Hat…

 

”—The Goblet of Fire”, Dumbledore continues and then, taking out his wand, he gives the chest three taps. 

 

The lid of the casket opens slowly, the gentle creak eerily loud in the silence as everyone seems to be holding their breaths. Reaching inside slowly and deliberately, Dumbledore lifts a large wooden cup from inside the chest, filled to the brim with dancing, blue-white flames. Then closing the lid of the chest again, he places the Goblet of Fire on top it. 

 

”Anybody who wishes to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly on a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet of Fire… You have twenty-four hours… Tomorrow evening, Hallowe’en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it deems most worthy to represent each school… The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be accessible to all those wishing to compete, and to ensure no underage student yield to temptation, I will draw an age line around it that no-one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross…Finally, I must impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament should not be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end — you see, placing your name into the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract — so there can be no change of heart once you have become a champion…”

 

Karkaroff comes over to the Slytherin table, his smarmy smile still in place as he seeks out Krum amongst his students. 

 

”Back to the ship then, boys… Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

 

Krum simply shakes his head and shrugs on his fur coat again, standing. The other Durmstrang boys follow suit. 

 

”Professor, I vood like some vine”, one of them says hopefully. 

 

Karkaroff’s friendly demeanour slips immediately as he glances over at the boy. 

 

”I did not offer it to you, Poliakoff”, he snaps. ”I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, you disgusting boy! You are embarrassing us in front of these Hogwarts—”

 

He cuts himself off suddenly and freezes, his eyes fixed on Harry in amazement and disbelief. Harry catches his eyes do the familiar little journey up to his forehead and swallows a sigh. 

 

”Yeah, that’s Harry Potter”, a gruff voice says suddenly. 

 

Karkaroff jumps and spins around to see Professor Moody standing right behind him, his good eye glaring up at the Durmstrang Head Teacher while his magical one flits over to Harry. 

 

” _You!_ ” Karkaroff gasps. 

 

”Me…” Moody growls. ”Welcome to Hogwarts, Karkaroff…”

 

Karkaroff immediately starts pushing and pulling his students roughly towards the doors, without another look at either Moody or Harry, suddenly in a rush to get back to the ship. Harry looks over at Moody curiously and notice the magical eye track the other man’s progress across the Hall and out the doors — and probably across the Entrance Hall and the grounds as well, Harry guesses.

 

Later in the Common Room, Harry sits with his friends and the rest of the fourth-years in front of the fireplace and speculate over which students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will get chosen by the Goblet of Fire and who from Hogwarts will enter their names for consideration. 

 

”Diggory from Hufflepuff will probably go for it”, Draco says and Pansy and Daphne immediately coo their agreement. 

 

”Diggory”, Harry scoffs. ”I heard he’s dumber than a broomstick… You heard what Dumbledore said. It’s going to take a lot more than physical strength to win —”

 

”Who said he’s dumb?” Draco asks. ”He can’t be _that_ dumb, he’s on top of half his classes _and_ he’s a Prefect…”

 

”How do _you_ know how he’s doing in his classes?” Harry asks suspiciously. 

 

Draco simply shrugs and looks away, but Harry can still see the blush that breaks out in the boy’s face. 

 

”I’m with Draco, I think he’s magnificent”, Pansy titters. ”You know, for a half-blood Hufflepuff…”

 

”You just like him because he’s good-looking!” Seamus says. 

 

”Isn’t anyone from Slytherin going to go for it?” Draco says loudly. 

 

Obviously trying to change the subject, Harry thinks with a frown and wonders if that’s because he thinks Diggory is good-looking too…

 

”Yeah, I am”, Warrington grunts from the other side of the Common Room. 

 

”Me too”, Flint chimes in. ”Might as well now that the Quidditch Cup is off the table…”

 

”I’m tired”, Harry lies. ”I’m going to go to bed…”

 

”Wait, I’m coming too…” Draco says immediately and jumps to his feet. 

 

”You don’t have to”, Harry mumbles uncomfortably. 

 

”What?” Draco says. ”I know — I’m tired too!”

 

”Okay then…” Harry sighs. 

 

They get ready for bed in silence. Harry would say tense silence, except he seems to be the only one feeling the tension because Draco looks like like he might start humming or whistling any second… Harry tries to catch his eye, to get a better reading, but the blonde busies himself with his pyjamas and doesn’t seem to notice. 

 

Whatever, Harry thinks sourly and clambers into bed. He’s just about to say good night, when the edge of his cover is suddenly lifted and Draco slips into bed next to him. 

 

”What are you doing?” Harry whispers. 

 

”Going to bed”, Draco whispers back and gives him a dazzling smile. 

 

Harry blinks in confusion. What is happening? And what happened to the missing bit between our fight in the Common Room and that smile?

 

”Harry?” Draco whispers, the smile slowly dimming. ”You don’t mind, do you?”

 

”What… Oh, no… No, of course not… But…”

 

”Good”, Draco says and smiles again.

 

I’m missing something, Harry thinks and opens his mouth to speak again, but whatever he might have meant to say gets snatched from him when the other boy leans in and presses their lips firmly together. Harry’s stomach flutters and he eagerly presses back. 

 

He feels the smile against his own lips this time. 

 

Draco leans back again. Harry blinks stupidly at him, feeling embarrassingly out of breath. The blonde reaches up and brushes the hair from Harry’s face and as he gazes into his eyes, his own silvery orbs twinkling with amusement and fondness… and the smile is still there, still secretive and playful and just there…  _I’m definitely missing something,_ Harry thinks. 

 

”Good night, Harry…”

 

 


	23. The fourth champion

Saturday morning, Harry wakes up with a flinch as something wet and cold drips onto his face. He blinks his eyes open to see a pale, blurry blob hovering over him and groans… Another cold droplet of water hits him on the nose and he turns his face away, curling up… 

 

”Oh, no you don’t—!”

 

Suddenly Harry’s bare arms and the back of his neck are showered with a spatter of cold water and he yelps, scrambling frantically to pull the cover over himself. However Draco pulls it right out of his hands and the next thing Harry knows, the blonde has shoved his whole head — wet hair and all — into the crook of his neck. 

 

” _Draco—!_ ” Harry squeaks, trying to squirm away but the other boy clambers on top of him and continues to rub his wet hair all over his neck and face.

 

”Wake up, already—!”

 

”Gerroff, you maniac—!”

 

”Come on, get up, get up, _get up—!_ ”

 

”GET OFF ME—!”

 

”GET _UP!_ ”

 

Thoroughly awake and with no chance of going back to sleep, even if the other boy would leave him alone, Harry gives up trying to buck him off his back and lets out a final howl of frustration, before going limp under his weight. 

 

”Are you awake?”

 

”Yes…” Harry mutters. ”You want to tell me why?”

 

”It’s Saturday!” Draco says as if it should be obvious. 

 

 _Merlin, give me strength,_ Harry thinks. 

 

”Harry, it’s _Saturday_ — Hallowe’en — the champions get chosen today!”

 

”Oh yeah…” Harry says, twisting his upper body around. 

 

”Now aren’t you glad you have such a thoughtful boyfriend that woke you up early…?” the blurry blob says and although Harry can’t _see_ the smug grin on his face without his glasses on, he can picture it perfectly and barely refrains from sticking his tongue out in response. 

 

 _Draco just said_ boyfriend, he thinks giddily, but forces himself to keep a straight face. 

 

”So are you going to let me up?”

 

”Are you actually going to get up?”

 

”Do I get a good morning kiss if I do…?”

 

”You’re incorrigible”, Draco mutters, but climbs off him and sits back.

 

Harry twists all the way around until he’s lying on his back and smiles in the general direction of the blob. It moves closer again and gives him a peck on the cheek, before clambering off the bed entirely. 

 

”Come on… I want to see who puts their name in the Goblet…”

 

”They probably all did it last night, though”, Harry says, heaving himself up to sitting and reaches for his glasses on the nightstand. 

 

”The Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons maybe, but anyone from Hogwarts would have had to wait until this morning because of the curfew.”

 

”I suppose…” 

 

When they reach the Entrance Hall, it becomes clear that they’re not the only ones curious about any potential contestants; over twenty people seem to have congregated around the Goblet of Fire… But when they get closer, Harry realises that the focus of everyone’s attention isn’t the Goblet at all, but something about ten feet away from it… They can hear gasps and guffaws from the small audience, and soon the entire Entrance Hall is ringing with laughter. 

 

”What’s going on?” Harry asks Draco who stands on tip-toe and cranes his neck to get a better look. 

 

”I did warn you…” a deep, amused voice says from above them. 

 

The crowd turns around and Harry and Draco move further into the hall and look up to see Professor Dumbledore standing on the first landing of the marble staircase. As some of the students move out of the way, Harry and Draco finally get a glimpse of the Weasley twins and Harry lets out an incredulous chuckle at the sight of them: both twins have magically sprouted long, white beards. 

 

”I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey”, Dumbledore says kindly. ”She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little, too… Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours!”

 

The twins set off for the Hospital Wing, accompanied by their friend Lee Jordan, all three of them still laughing hysterically. Harry and Draco watches them pass, Harry grinning and Draco snorting derisively (although Harry did see the corner of his mouth twitch.)

 

They walk into the Great Hall to find it dramatically transformed — yet again — since the night before, the decorations for the Welcoming Feast now switched to hundreds of carved pumpkins, intricate tree branches with leaves in glowing orange, red and yellow and a massive cloud of live bats fluttering around the beams in the enchanted ceiling. 

 

Seamus, Blaise and Theodore are already seated at the Slytherin table chatting excitedly with parts of the Quidditch team. 

 

”Did you do it?” Harry asks Flint and Warrington eagerly.

 

”Cassius did”, Flint says, nodding across the table at Warrington. 

 

”What about you?” Harry says. 

 

”Nah, can’t be bothered…” the older boy says casually. 

 

Harry catches the quick look he exchanges with Adrian Pucey however and thinks the other boy might have had something to do with the Team Captain’s change of heart. He knows better than to comment on it though… Eager to get back out into the Entrance Hall, he wolfs down some scrambled eggs and bacon, barely chewing, just washes it all down with pumpkin juice, much to Draco’s disgust.

 

”What?” Harry says, around his last mouthful and Draco scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. ”You’re the one who wanted to check out the Goblet of Fire!”

 

The day goes by surprisingly quickly, but almost as if making up for that, the Hallowe’en feast seems to drag on forever instead. And being the second feast in as many days, none of the students are all that impressed by the extravagant dishes put before them this time around, but rather more interested in the Goblet of Fire that is now standing in front of Dumbledore on the Head Table, its blue and white flames dancing almost hypnotically… Harry finds his gaze drawn to them over and over, even as he tries to focus on the conversations going on around him instead, even though they’re half-hearted at best. 

 

Harry isn’t the only distracted. As soon as the students have polished off their puddings, more and more people take to craning their necks and glaring restlessly at Dumbledore who, annoyingly enough, is taking his sweet time finishing his sundae. 

 

Finally, the golden plates on the tables in front of them are magically switched to sparkling clean ones and the murmur in the Great Hall rises to an excited buzz, that dies down instantly as Professor Dumbledore stands up and smiles down at them all, his eyes twinkling more than ever behind his half-moon spectacles. 

 

On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madam Maxime sit up a little straighter, which is slightly more impressive in Madam Maxime’s case since — despite still sitting down — it makes her almost level with Dumbledore. 

 

”Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision”, Dumbledore says happily. 

 

Further dowm the Head Table, Ludo Bagman grins jovially and winks at various students, whereas Barty Crouch looks almost bored with the proceedings, Harry notices. He keeps looking off to the side as though wishing to escape, snapping back to himself when Bagman claps him on the shoulder to give the other man an unimpressed and almost tense look. 

 

”When the Champions’ names are called”, Dumbledore continues. ”I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table and go through into the next chamber where they will be given their first instructions…”

 

Dumbledore then takes out his wand and with one sweeping movement he extinguises all the candles in the Hall except for the ones inside the carved pumpkins, lending a spooky quality to the already charged atmosphere… If Harry had found it hard to look away from the blue and white flames inside the Goblet of Fire before, it’s literally impossible now. Even as the bright light stings his eyes, he can’t bring himself to tear them away. 

 

Then just as he thought he might go blind from this whole experience, the flames inside the Goblet suddenly turns a dark crimson instead and as sparks fly out of the Goblet there’s a collective intake of breath inside the Hall and several people begin to whisper excitedly to each other. 

 

A long flame bursts up from the Goblet and a charred piece of paper flutters through the air. Harry follows its movement as though hypnotised and gasps as Dumbledore snatches it with Seeker-like reflexes. 

 

”The champion from Durmstrang”, he reads in a clear voice. ”Will be Viktor Krum.”

 

There’s an uproar of cheering and applause. Harry turns to grin at the Durmstrang boy sitting a few seats over and claps his hands enthusiastically, amused to see that not even this has managed to crack the older boy’s stone-faced facade. Krum rises to his feet silently and makes his way to the front of the Hall as instructed and disappears through the door to the adjoining chamber without so much as a smirk. 

 

The Goblet of Fire, having returned to its original white-blue hue after spitting out Krum’s name, now turns crimson again. 

 

”The champion for Beauxbatons”, Dumbledore reads from the second piece of paper snatched from the air. ”Is Fleur Delacour!”

 

A slim girl with heavy-lidded pale blue eyes rises gracefully from her seat at the Ravenclaw table and flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder before making her way to the front of the Hall. Madam Maxime gives her a motherly smile before she too slips through the side door and disappears. 

 

The applause dies down immediately as the Goblet of Fire turns crimson again. The sparks seem bigger and more frantic now, as if the Goblet itself is caught up in the enthusiasm in the Great Hall. A tongue of flame shoots up and the third piece of paper flutters out of it, only to be snatched up by Dumbledore’s nimble fingers.  

 

”The Hogwarts champion”, Dumbledore calls out. ”Is Cedric Diggory!”

 

Harry feels a sinking sense of disappointment, but claps his hands dutifully. Some of his fellow Slytherins promptly puts their hands in their laps in pure protest however and simply glower at the grinning Hufflepuff, and even the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws applause is lukewarm, but it’s barely even noticeable as every single person at the Hufflepuff table jumps to their feet and shout themselves hoarse, clapping furiously and stamping their feet so loudly Dumbledore’s shouted _”Excellent”_ is barely audible. 

 

As Diggory disappears through the side door, the noise finally dies down again and the Hufflepuffs resume their seats. 

 

”Well, now that we have our three champions, I’m sure I can count on all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give them every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

 

Dumbledore stops speaking suddenly, and stares in apprehension at Goblet of Fire… It’s turned crimson once more. Sparks are spitting out of it. A long flame surges out of its depth. And finally a charred piece of paper flutters through the air… Every eye in the Hall follows its decent to the floor at Dumbledore’s feet. 

 

The flames inside the Goblet of Fire turns back to blue, then white, then die down completely leaving the Great Hall in an even darker, orange glow than before with the many leering pumpkins around the Hall being the only source of light in the darkness.

 

Moving slowly, as if in a trance, Dumbledore stoops down and plucks the piece of paper from the floor and flourishing his wand, almost as an aftert-thought, reigniting every floating candle in the Hall. Students and teachers alike exchange looks of confusion and apprehension as Dumbledore holds the paper up to his face and reads it silently. 

 

”Ehm, Dumbledore —?” Ludo Bagman says uncertainly, his grin twitching nervously. 

 

Dumbledore looks up again and his eyes flit over to the Slytherin table. 

 

”Harry Potter…”

 

Harry blinks, giving his head a small shake. He misheard, he tells himself numbly. _I must have. There’s no way. No. Absolutely not._

 

Even as every single head turns to stare at him, he tells himself _no. There’s a mistake. Just no._

 

”Harry Potter!”

 

Draco rounds on him and pins him with an alarmed look, but Harry just shakes his head calmly to reassure him because, after all, there’s nothing to be alarmed about. _Because it’s a mistake. Must be._

 

There’s a ripple of whispers through the Hall. Harry watches Professor Snape stand and sweep over to Dumbledore and whisper urgently in his ear. Dumbledore nods, but gesture for the younger professor to wait. He looks over at Harry again, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle. 

 

”Harry Potter, will you come up here, please?”

 

”Harry, you have to go up there”, Seamus whispers. 

 

”No!” Draco whispers back furiously. 

 

” _Harry Potter!_ Up here, please!” Dumbledore’s booming voice echoes around the Hall.

 

Aware of every single eye following him, Harry walks up the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables as though moving through a dream. He feels sick to the stomach, but in a way he welcomes the sensation. It gives him something to focus on. Something real. Something he can comprehend. 

 

Snape meets him at side door and more or less pushes him through it. As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, he grabs Harry by the arm and steers him off to the side. Harry just has time to notice the curious faces of the three champions at the other end of the chamber before Snape fixes him with his flashing, dark eyes.

 

”Did you put your name in that goblet, Harry?” he asks quietly.

 

”No…” Harry says numbly. 

 

”Did you ask an older student to do it for you? Tell the truth — I won’t be angry—”

 

” _No_ … Professor, I swear—!” 

 

For a second Snape’s eyes seem to bore into Harry’s mind. The door slides open again behind them, but Harry can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Snape’s. 

 

”Extraordinary!” he hears Ludo Bagman exclaim. ”Absolutely extraordinary!”

 

Finally, Snape loosens his grip on Harry’s arm and takes a step back from him, his entire face shuttering. Harry is seized by an overwhelming panic, sure that the Potions Master thinks he’s lying and he opens his mouth to speak, to convince him, to plead for his trust — but before he can utter so much as a sound, the door opens for a second time and the chamber is filled with noise as a whole group of people enter. 

 

Dumbledore and Barty Crouch walk with their heads close together, whispering seriously. They’re closely followed by Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime who are both trying to get Dumbledore’s attention. Professor McGonagall is bringing up the rear, looking more stern-faced than ever. 

 

”What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?”

 

” _Two_ Hogwarts champions—?”

 

” _C’est impossible—!_ ”

 

”Also, we were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants—”

 

Professor McGonagall slams the door shut with a little more force than strictly necessary. Karkaroff and Madam Maxime both turn to give her withering looks but fall silent finally. Barty Crouch fingers his moustache nervously and clears his throat, drawing the attention of every person in the room.

 

”The rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament.”

 

”Then I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students”, Karkaroff exclaims. ”You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions! It’s only fair—!”

 

”But Karkaroff”, Ludo Bagman says with a half-chuckle that does nothing to appease the furious man. ”The Goblet of Fire has already gone out. It won’t reignite until the start of the next Tournament —”

 

”In which Durmstrang most definitely won’t participate!” the man hollers, showering the former Quidditch player with spittle as he gets in his face. ”After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave right now —!”

 

”Empty threats, Karkaroff”, a growling voice says and everyone turns around to see Moody standing inside the door, leaning heavily on his staff. ”You’re not going to abandon your champion, and he has to compete. They all have to compete. Binding magical contract, remember? Convenient, eh?”

 

”Convenient?” Karkaroff spits. ”Vat is that supposed to mean, Mad-Eye—?”

 

”Now, now, gentlemen…” Dumbledore says calmly. ”This is hardly the time and place… Our four champions await their first instructions —”

 

”But I don’t want to compete!” Harry blurts out finally. 

 

Everyone turns to stare at him in varying degrees of shock and incredulity, as if it never actually occurred to either one of them that that might be the case, except for Snape who’s eyes are still shuttered. Harry swallows thickly, giving his head a small shake. 

 

”I didn’t put my name in the Goblet”, he says, aware of how desperate he sounds. 

 

”A likely ztory”, Madame Maxime mutters.

 

”I didn’t”, Harry says hoarsely. ”It’s a mistake. So… I’m not competing.”

 

A look of mild pain flickers into Professor Dumbledore’s face and he looks over at Snape, who immediately gives him a nod. 

 

”He’s telling the truth”, he says quietly. 

 

” _Hah!_ ” Karkaroff says. 

 

”Severus…” Dumbledore says. ”I’m sure Harry would feel better if his guardians were here. Would you…?”

 

Nodding curtly, Snape strides out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, it’s as if Harry isn’t even in the chamber anymore. Dumbledore asks McGonagall to walk Diggory to his Common Room and then turns to Madame Maxime and Karkaroff and politely asks for their patience while they try and sort everything out. 

 

”Come, Viktor!” Karkaroff says and storms out of the chamber, sneering at Moody as he shoves past him. 

 

Madam Maxime puts one of her massive hands on top of her student’s shoulder and the girl seems to buckle slightly under it. Without as much as a good night to the people remaining in the chamber, they make their way out the door as well. 

 

”Well, this is quite… quite extraordinary…” Ludo Bagman says, bouncing nervously on his feet. 

 

His eyes keeps flitting over to Harry, the only sign that Harry is in fact still visible… Both Barty Crouch and Dumbledore stand silently on either end of the chamber, both lost in thought. 

 

Harry turns to look at Professor Moody, still lurking in the shadows by the door. He imagines feeling the sharp gaze of the magical eye on him. 

 

”Scared, Potter…?” the man growls. 

 

Harry swallows several times, but the growing lump in his throat won’t budge so he just gives his head a non-committal shake. 

 

”I’d consider yeh a fool if you weren’t…”

 

He hears hurried footsteps approaching on the other side of the door and in the next moment it flies open with such force that Harry almost expects it to come off its hinges. Jumping back, he stares in shock as his daddy storms inside the chamber, followed by a very wary Professor Snape. 

 

Remus’ eyes are flashing dangerously and they zero in on Professor Dumbledore at once. 

 

”You can get right on to telling me there’s been a mistake and then apologise for the inconvenience, Albus…” he growls. ”Because _I know_ you did not just enter my son into the Triwizard Tournament!”

 

Without tearing his eyes away from the older man, Remus’ hand flies out to clutch Harry’s shoulder as if needing the physical reminder that he’s there and okay. The weight of his daddy’s warm hand sends Harry plummeting back into himself and anchors him. 

 

Remus swiftly turns on Snape, who immediately flinches back. 

 

”I’m not going to _bite_ , Severus”, Remus grits out angrily. ”I merely want an explanation as to how my son has been put in mortal danger _yet again,_ when you _specifically assured me_ only last summer that you would do your outmost to make sure that he wouldn’t be—!”

 

”Daddy, it’s not Professor Snape’s fault”, Harry says in a small voice. ”He didn’t put my name in that cup…”

 

”The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract—” Barty Crouch starts but stutters to a stop and holds his briefcase out in front of him like some kind of shield as Remus rounds on him furiously. 

 

”He is a _minor!_ ”

 

”N-Nevertheless”, Crouch insists firmly, although a light sheen of sweat has broken out over forehead.

 

”Nevertheless?” Remus demands incredulously. ” _Nevertheless?_ He is a minor! That means he cannot enter into a magical contract without his legal guardian’s consent! Well guess what, _you don’t have it_ —!”

 

”Mister Black, I assure you — quite safe —”

 

Harry frowns and looks between Barty Crouch and his daddy, then glances over at Snape in confusion but his Head of House seems just as confused as him as to why the Ministry Official would assume his daddy is Sirius.

 

”Safe? _Safe—?_ ” Remus repeats hysterically. 

 

”Now, let us take a moment to just consi—” Dumbledore interrupts gently. 

 

”Don’t you dare, Dumbledore!” Remus hollers. ” _Don’t you fucking dare!_ Harry is not competing in this Tournament! — NO! _STOP!_ — there’s nothing to _discuss_ , nothing to _consider_ — You are not manipulating this to your advantage, Dumbledore — HE IS JUST A _BOY!_ AND YOU WILL FIX THIS, _DO YOU HEAR ME?_ ”

 

”Please, Mister Black—” Mr Crouch says in a small voice, clutching his briefcase a little tighter to his chest.

 

” _I’m not Sirius Black!_ ” Remus snaps. ”He’s my husband. He doesn’t give consent either. This whole thing is ridiculous. Harry is fourteen years old. _Fourteen._ And for you to stand there and look me in the eye and seriously tell me that it is _quite safe_ —!” 

 

Remus voice breaks and he closes his eyes as if in pain and takes a deep breath.

 

Harry quickly moves over to him and nestles into his side. Remus’ arm instinctively curls around his back and hugs him closer, even as he opens his eyes and fixes the now terrified-looking Mister Crouch with a cold stare. 

 

”You’re telling me that there is no way of removing Harry from this competition?”

 

”I’m — I’m s-sorry, _no —_ ”

 

”Fine”, Remus says in a clipped tone. ”Then I guess Harry will have to stay in the competition… And then he’ll just have to forfeit each of the tasks as they present themselves, because there is _no way_ my son’s life will be put in jeopardy as long as I have anything to say about it… Are you going to challenge that, Albus?” he adds sharply. 

 

He turns sharply to the Headmaster again. The old wizard hangs his head as if having been caught out, but quickly shakes his head and peers up at Remus with almost sad eyes. 

 

”I would never dream of undermining your authority as someone with Harry’s best interest at heart, Remus”, he says seriously. ”But I implore you to take a moment and think about this, talk it over with Sirius… I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say I’m deeply concerned about this turn of events and harbour no doubts as to the intentions of whomever put Harry’s name into the Goblet of Fire…”

 

”What do you mean?” Remus says hoarsely. 

 

His vice-like grip on Harry tightens further and Harry winces in pain, but no-one notices. 

 

”Only a very powerful witch or wizard could have hoodwinked a magical object like the Goblet of Fire”, Moody says quietly. 

 

Everyone’s eyes flit over to the shadowed corner where he’s still standing. The air feels dense around them suddenly. Harry feels it seep into his lungs, but instead of filling them with oxygen it seems to weigh them down.

 

”I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category. To make the Goblet of Fire forget only three schools were competing would have required an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm… That’s a great risk to take just to give Hogwarts an advantage in the competition.”

 

”That’s enough, Alastor”, Dumbledore says. 

 

”I’m just saying…” Moody mutters.

 

”Yes…” Dumbledore turns back to Remus with imploring eyes. ”But _for exactly that reason_ —”

 

”You want to offer my son up as _bait,_ Dumbledore?” Remus growls. 

 

”He will have protection”, Dumbledore insists. ”I will _personally_ make sure that he’s safe, as will Severus—”

 

”That’s not good enough—”

 

”I appreciate your apprehension about the consequences of Harry participating in these tasks, but have you considered the consequences of _not_ letting him?”

 

”What — What do you mean?”

 

”If so obviously thwarted, the person responsible for entering Harry into the Tournament might panic and resort to other, desperate measures…”

 

No-one speaks for a long time and the atmosphere of the room continues to cool until Harry almost expects to see everyone’s breath start to fog. 

 

Finally Remus looks down at Harry. The pained glint in his daddy’s eyes makes Harry’s stomach flip. He doesn’t say anything, just hugs Harry a little closer and then looks over at Professor Snape. A brief conversation seems to pass silently between the two men and Harry looks between them anxiously. 

 

”Harry, go with Professor Snape…” Remus says finally. 

 

”Where?” Harry asks immediately. 

 

”Come on, Harry”, Snape says. 

 

The softness in his voice makes Harry wince; there is nothing soft about Professor Snape — _ever —_ and Harry doesn’t want there to be, especially now. Because that means this whole situation is irrevocably real and also very serious, so serious that even Snape is worried for him. 

 

”I’ll walk you to your dormitory…”

 

Harry gives Remus a last, desperate look, but obediently steps out of his embrace when Snape curls a gentle hand around his elbow and guides him towards the door. 

 

”Wait…” Remus says as an after-thought. ”You might need this…”

 

He slips a note into Harry’s hand, except it’s not a note, it’s the Marauder’s Map. Harry gives his daddy a surprised look, but Remus just looks back at Dumbledore and Crouch. Snape pulls on Harry’s arm again and they leave the room. 

 

They walk in silence, Snape’s hand sliding up to rest between Harry’s shoulder blades and Harry knows he’s trying to be comforting, but it just makes him feel so much worse. He’s seen Snape sneer at third-degree burns and roll his eyes at accidentally altered body parts. If the man is being this nice and comforting, it can only mean one thing… _I’m in serious trouble!_

 

Draco is waiting anxiously just inside the door to the Common Room when they enter. His eyes are a little red, but Harry can’t see any traces of tears on his face anymore. 

 

”What happened?” he says, looking desperately between Harry and Professor Snape. ”Did you sort it out?”

 

Harry just shakes his head, not trusting his voice to speak at the moment. 

 

”What do you mean _no_?” Draco demands shrilly, glaring back at him. ”You’re not competing! You’re not allowed! Professor, tell him—!”

 

”Draco…”

 

”No! It’s against the rules, you can’t let him—!”

 

”Draco”, Snape snaps. ”There’s nothing we can do… If chosen by the Goblet of Fire to be a champion of the Triwizard Tournament—”

 

”But he’s underage! He’s—!”

 

Draco cuts himself off, his widening eyes flitting back to Harry’s face. Harry just continues to shake his head silently, even as tears well up in his eyes and blur everything in front of him. He hears Snape let out a rare sigh, before the man’s hand finds itself to the hollow between his shoulderblades one more time, just rests there for a second before falling away again. 

 

”It’s been a long evening”, Snape says quietly. ”I suggest you go to bed, both of you. We’ll figure everything out in the morning…”

 

As Harry and Draco walk through the Common Room, a hush spreads amongst the many Slytherins still hanging around and Harry feels their eyes on him like so many searchlights but no-one says anything and Harry is glad. He doesn’t think he can face all of their questions right now. He just wants to go to bed and hopefully, by the time he wakes up the adults will have come up with a way for him to avoid competing in the Tournament. Or better still, he’ll wake up and realise this was all one long, detailed nightmare…

 

Draco more or less ushers Harry inside the dorm and then shuts the door with a definitive _click_. He then rounds on Harry and demands to know the truth.

 

”Moody reckons someone put a Confundus Charm on the Goblet of Fire and put my name in…”

 

The words are falling out of Harry’s mouth as if of their own accord. It’s like he’s hearing them from somewhere else, someone else. He’s hyper aware of Draco’s wide eyes boring into him, but he can’t bring himself to meet them, not fully. Instead he stares at the other boy’s mouth. His lips are pressed thin and trembling slightly. It makes everything feel worse, more real. 

 

”They called my daddy, he came right through and — he was livid — he was screaming at Dumbledore and Crouch…”

 

”And?” Draco says breathlessly, his voice aquiver with hope that makes Harry want to smash something to pieces. 

 

”And nothing”, he says bitterly. ”It didn’t change a thing. There’s nothing they can do—”

 

”There has to be!”

 

”—There’s nothing anyone can do! — _No! — You’re not listening to me!_ NO-ONE CAN HELP! I HAVE TO DO THIS—!”

 

Draco lurches forward and wraps his arms around him. Only then does it dawn on Harry that he’s shaking and tears are streaming down his face. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he clutches the material of the back of Draco’s robes and thrusts his face against the hollow of this neck. And when the other boy hushes him and starts rubbing his back gently, it’s like Harry’s last restraint snaps and he melts into the embrace. 

 

He’s vaguely aware of the creaking of the door opening behind them, but he’s too far gone to care, sobbing freely and smearing hot tears and snot all over Draco’s collar as the other boy’s arm hug him tighter. It’s nothing like the pressure of Remus’ arms around him, but it’s enough to hold him together…

 

”It’s going to be okay”, Draco whispers fiercely. 

 

 

*

 

Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch stays at the castle for the remainder of the weekend, summoning Harry and the other three champions to a meeting in the Headmaster’s Office to officially give them their instructions for the first task of the Tournament. 

 

Although _’instructions’_ is definitely misleading, Harry thinks. Barty Crouch informed them that the first task will be taking place on the twenty-fourth of November, but the only thing he told them about the actual task was that he wasn’t going to tell them anything about the task, because apparently _”courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…”_

 

Finally he tells them all sternly that they’re not permitted to ask for or accept any kind of help from any of their teachers. 

 

In the following days Harry suffers through a passive-aggressive anti-Harry campaign from the other Hogwarts Houses — and the visiting students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons don’t seem too happy with him either — but at least Harry’s friends are on his side, keeping close to him and acting as buffers between him and the rest of the school. 

 

Even Crabbe and Goyle have taken to cracking their knuckles threateningly whenever someone says something rude to him. 

 

And the girls reluctantly stop fawning over Cedric Diggory in public as a show of support to the Slytherin champion, which surprises Harry more than anything. He wonders if Draco has talked to Pansy finally, because the girl is obviously making an effort to be nicer to him and he’s almost disproportionately relieved about that. Mostly because it means that there is at least one place at the school where he can relax besides the dormitory, even if it is the Common Room…

 

Professor Snape seems to have had enough of the tensions in the school, because he stalks around looking more grim than ever and snatching any and every opportunity to snap at the students. So when Ludo Bagman sticks his head through the door of the Potions classroom without knocking, the atmosphere in the room freezes over quicker than the ground in a Dementor’s wake. 

 

”Hey ho, Severus!” Bagman calls out jovially and tops it off with a wink. 

 

Snape glowers at him, the effect hightened by the dramatic swirls of potion fumes in the air.

 

”Mind if I borrow Harry for the Wand Weighing ceremony?” Bagman asks, seemingly oblivious to the fact that if looks could kill he’d already be cold on the ground. ”Also Rita Skeeter is here from the _Daily Prophet_ and want to take some photogr—”

 

” _Fine!_ ” Snape snaps. ”Harry! Go with Mr Bagman!”

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

 

He grabs his book bag and shuffles out of the door, falling into step with Bagman and wincing slightly when the older wizard claps him on the shoulder. 

 

”Well, this is _exciting,_ isn’t it, Harry? The fourth champion! And only fourteen years old — golly, imagine the _odds_! _— I mean! —_ Who would have thought it?” he clears his throat carefully. ”And you’ll be fine, won’t you, Harry? From what I’ve been told you’ve got quite used to _adventures,_ haven’t you, eh?”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”Your Head of House is a little high-strung, eh?” 

 

Clapping Harry twice more on the back, Mr Bagman chortles merrily like he’s just told a hilarious joke. Harry reins in the scowl on his face and just mutters another _Yes, Sir_. 

 

They reach the ground floor and Bagman steers Harry towards a classroom door. Inside the three other champions are already waiting for them, Miss Delacour and Diggory standing off to one side talking quietly with each other while Krum stands in a corner on the opposite side of the room, looking particularly moody but perking up slightly when Harry and Mr Bagman enter. 

 

”Here we are!” Bagman exclaims happily. ”The fourth champion! Now, who else are we missing? Ah, yes, the other judges of course — they’ll be here any minute now, don’t worry! — Harry, may I introduce you to Rita Skeeter, writer for the Daily Prophet?”

 

A blonde witch Harry hadn’t noticed at first, steps out from the shadows, trailed by a bored-looking wizard holding a smoking camera. She is wearing magenta robes and horn-rimmed glasses and her lips, smiling widely at Harry as she extends a well-manicured hand for him to shake, are painted blood red. He shakes her hand quickly, feeling slightly perturbed by the intensity of her unwavering and unblinking gaze as it rests on his face. 

 

”Lovely… Mr Bagman, I wonder…” she murmurs, still without tearing her eyes away from Harry. ”Could I perhaps have a quick word with Harry before we start? The youngest champion — the fourth champion — you know, to add a splash of colour to the piece?”

 

”What a marvellous idea!” Mr Bagman exclaims. ”You don’t mind, do you, Harry?”

 

”Er…”

 

”Excellent—!” Ms Skeeter says and grips Harry’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip and pulls him out of the room again. ”Come along, let’s find somewhere a little more quiet… Ah, here we are, nice and cosy, what do you say?”

 

Harry stumbles slightly as she pushes him into a broom cupboard before squeezing in next to him, her bulging bossom level with his face and making him feel hot and clammy. He squirms away from her as much as physically possible in the cramped space, but not wanting to appear rude he gives her a pinched smile. 

 

”You won’t mind if I use a Quick-Quote Quill, will you, dear?” she asks sweetly, opening her handbag and pulling out a long green quill and a roll of parchment. ”It leaves me free to talk to you normally, you see…”

 

”Fine”, he mumbles. ”I don’t care…”

 

”Lovely…” she simpers, then turns to the quill now poised above the parchment. ”Testing… my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter.”

 

As Harry cranes his neck and looks down at the quill it begins to flutter frantically, scribbling on the parchment, ” _Attractive, blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations…”_

”

”Lovely”, Ms Skeeter says again and Harry snaps back to her face politely. ”So, Harry… what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

 

”Er —” 

 

The quill has begun its frantic scribbling once more. Harry can hear the scratch of it as it soars over the parchment. Glancing down quickly, he can make out the beginning of the next sentence, _”An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face…”_

 

”Just ignore the quill”, Ms Skeeter says sharply. 

 

”Sorry”, Harry mumbles quickly and looks up at her again. 

 

”So, what made you decide to enter the Tournament, Harry?”

 

”I didn’t”, Harry says.

 

”Come now, Harry… I know you weren’t really supposed to, but you’ve got away with it, haven’t you? You don’t need to worry about getting into trouble, so tell me the truth…”

 

”That is the truth”, Harry says firmly. 

 

”Now, now, Harry… I get it, I do. You’re worried about your reputation. But let me let you in on a little secret… Our readers love a rebel”, she says in a hushed voice, then gives him a slow wink. ”Speaking of which, how do you feel about the tasks ahead? Excited? Nervous? Concerned?”

 

”Y-Yeah I…”

 

”Champions have died in the past, haven’t they? Have you thought about that at all?”

 

”Ehm…”

 

”Of course you’ve looked death in the face before, haven’t you?” she says offhandedly, but her gaze remains intense and pinned on his, catching his every blink and every muscle-twitch in his face. ”Do you think that it was the trauma of your past that made you keen to prove yourself in this Tournament? To live up to your name?”

 

”What?”

 

”How do you think your parents would feel if they knew you were competing? Proud? Worried? Angry?”

 

”They _do_ know”, Harry bites out. 

 

The witch blinks in surprise and the quill stops whizzing across the parchment for the first time. But as realisation filters into Ms Skeeter’s eyes, it starts up again, scribbling even more frantically than before. 

 

”Ah, yes, of course… Do forgive me… You were raised by your parents’ friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, isn’t that right?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says shortly, glaring at the quill, but before he can get a look at what it’s written, the parchment angles away. 

 

”Yes, of course… And is it on their insistance that you call them your parents or are _they,_ to _your_ mind, in fact your _true_ parents?”

 

”What?” Harry says icily. ”What kind of a question is _that?_ ”

 

”Do you remember your biological parents?” Ms Skeeter ploughs on swiftly.

 

”No —”

 

”But you know they gave their lives to save yours?”

 

”Yeah, but —”

 

”Do you then think perhaps that it might be perceived as _ungrateful_ that you—”

 

”I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” Harry snaps, heart pounding in anger inside his tight chest. 

 

Suddenly the door of the broom cupboard flies open and, blinking in the sudden sunlight, they both turn to see Professor Dumbledore standing outside, peering at them curiously over his half-moon spectacles and smiling serenely. 

 

Rita Skeeter snatches up the The Quick-Quote Quill and parchment and quickly stuffs them back into her handbag, before she extends her hand to Dumbledore with a brilliant smile. 

 

” _Dumbledore!_ It’s been an age! I hope you saw my piece on the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference this past summer?”

 

”Ah yes”, Dumbledore says and shakes her hand. ”It was enchantingly nasty. I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat…”

 

Harry stares in shock between the Headmaster’s twinkling eyes and Ms Skeeter’s unwavering grin. 

 

”I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street—”

 

”I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita”, Dumbledore interrupts with a cordial little bow. ”But I’m afraid it will have to wait. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannor do so if one of our champions is hidden away in a broom cupboard…”

 

His twinkly eyes flicker over to Harry and the smile softens slightly. 

 

”Are you ready, Harry?”

 

Harry frowns, but nods and hurries out of the broom cupboard and back into the classroom. While they’ve been gone, more desks have been cleared from the centre of the room and a few of them have been lined up at the back of the classroom and covered in velvet drapes and turned into a provisional judges panel behind which four of the five judges are already sitting. 

 

Harry quickly looks around and sees the other three champions seated closer to the door and quickly pulls up a chair for himself next to Krum. He clasps his hands together tightly in his lap to stop them from trembling. Torrents of anger are still coursing through his body. He feels Krum’s sidelong look, but keeps staring at his own hands. 

 

Dumbledore joins the other judges and then introduces Mr Ollivander the wand-maker, who proceeds to inspect the champions’ wands. He looks exactly like the last time Harry met him in his wand shop in Diagon Alley, with watery pale eyes and tufty white hair. And just like that time, he gives Harry the creeps. 

 

After all of their wands have been inspected satisfactorily, Rita Skeeter and her photographer start arranging the champions and the judges for the photos to go with the article, which takes a lot longer than Harry would ever have imagined. 

 

First there is the matter of logistics, with Madam Maxime being so much taller than everyone else she seem to cast at least half of the others into shadow whereever she stands and also there isn’t enough space in the classroom to allow the photographer to back far enough away to get all of her in the shot. Finally, they decide to have her seated in the middle of the shot, with everyone else standing around her.

 

Secondly, the photographer keeps dragging Fleur Delacour to the front of the group, but Ms Skeeter immediately jumps in and rearranging them so that Harry has the more prominent position. 

 

Lastly, she insists on separate shots of all the champions, before they’re free to leave. 

 

Harry can’t get away from it all fast enough. He’s aware of Krum approaching him through the corner of his eye, but pretends not to have noticed and slips out of the classroom as soon as he’s able. He just needs to get away from it all. Especially Rita Skeeter and her unwavering smile that doesn’t quite reach her piercing blue eyes. 

 

His mind keeps flashing back to the questions she asked him and every time he remembers a particular one, or the way her eyes bored into him almost hungrily as she waited for him to spill his inner most thoughts and feelings, his anger spikes again… 

 

Despite his stomach growling with hunger, Harry doesn’t think he can deal with everyone’s looks and jibes on top of everything else right now so he decides to skip dinner in the Great Hall. But when he’s halfway to the Common Room, he remembers his daddy showing him the secret entrance to the Hogwarts Kitchens and takes a detour. 

 

Dobby the house-elf is delighted to see him again and despite being in the middle of the dinner rush, he takes a moment and fixes a sandwich for Harry to take to the Common Room and that’s where Draco, Blaise and Seamus finds him an hour later. 

 

”There you are!” Draco says and shoves him lightly in the chest as he plops down on the sofa next to him. ”Don’t disappear like that!”

 

”I didn’t disappear…” Harry mutters and shoves him back. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Draco asks seriously. 

 

”Nothing… I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

 

If Harry had hoped a good night’s sleep (or even a restless one), would make him feel better and maybe even put things into perspective for him, he’s in for a big disappointment… Even before he sees the paper, he knows something’s wrong the minute he and his friends step inside the Great Hall. 

 

Every head turn to stare at him as he enters. People are pointing and whispering, some aren’t even whispering but making comments and quoting the article loud enough for him to ’overhear’ them when he walks past, but he pretends not to. 

 

One of the _Daily Prophet_ ’s delivery owls swoops down from the rafters as soon as Draco sits down at the Slytherin table and drops a rolled up copy of the day’s issue into his empty porridge bowl, then sticks out its leg with the money bag tied to it. Draco pushes a Knut into it and the owl takes flight again. 

 

Harry watches disquietly as the blonde onrolls the newspaper, his stomach already in knots as his mind begins to race with possibilities of what that horrid witch and her quill might have cooked up together. 

 

His worst fears are almost immediately confirmed when Draco flattens the paper on top of the table and they can see that, except for the headline, the whole front page is taken up by a large photograph of a frowning Harry, trying to move out of the shot but being pushed back in by a couple of mannish hands with long, sharp nails. Harry remembers those nails digging into his arm. He was even left with four small bruises as a souvenir. 

 

Draco quickly begins to scan the article on page two and tells Harry it isn’t so bad, it’s mostly about the Triwizard Tournament even though the focus seems to be on him as the fourth champion (Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour mentioned only in passing, and with Delacour’s name misspelled. Cedric Diggory not mentioned at all.) The continued article on pages six and seven on the other hand is all about him, apparently. 

 

”How bad is it?” Harry asks warily, feeling like a large stone has fallen into the pit of his stomach as Draco’s eyes flicker over to his and instead of answering, the blonde just licks his lips nervously. ”That bad then…”

 

”No…” Draco says uncertainly, then quickly ploughs on breezily. ”I mean, it’s okay! It’s not — It’s just — just a stupid article, isn’t it? You don’t believe half of what’s in the paper, do you, everyone knows that, so…”

 

”Let me see…” Harry mumbles and reaches for the paper. 

 

”You don’t want to read it”, Draco says instantly, hugging the crumpled paper to his chest. ”It’s stupid…”

 

”Draco, let me see it.”

 

”No—”

 

” _Draco!_ ”

 

”Fine…” the blonde mutters and hands it to him.

 

With dread pooling in his stomach, Harry begins to skim the article quickly. He feels like someone has put his ribcage in a vice and the more he reads, the tighter it gets and when he gets to the end it’s got so tight he can barely breathe. 

 

_”When asked about his biological parents, James and Lily Potter, Harry becomes distant and even cold, claiming not to remember them at all and insisting on bringing the conversation back to his adoptive parents, stating fiercely: ”They are my real parents, and that’s all I have to say about the matter!”_

 

_But this reporter could not help but to detect a flicker of fear in those startlingly green eyes and it begs the question, is all really as it seems in the life of Harry Potter, or has growing up under the care of confirmed werewolf Remus Lupin had a much deeper impact on this young rebel?”_

 

She then goes on to write about werewolves being notoriously short-tempered and emotionally unstable, but Harry slams the paper down on the table before he gets to the end, unable to read any more. He clambers off the bench and ignoring all the stares and whispers, and Draco’s worried voice as he calls out his name, he runs out of the Great Hall and doesn’t stop until he’s back inside his dorm again. 

 

Images of his dad and daddy eating breakfast and reading the _Prophet_ at the kitchen table keep flashing in his mind and he realises he needs to let them know that it’s not true, that he didn’t say any of those things; in fact he didn’t say anything at all — all he said was ”er” and ”ehm” — that stupid quill made up the rest! 

 

With tears stinging his eyes and stomach in knots, Harry fumbles with his quill and nearly spills the entire contents of his ink well over the parchment in his haste to compose the letter, but he manages to jot down the message without incident and quickly folds it up and heads for the owlery. 

 

Hedwig returns within an hour and Harry struggles to untie the letter from her leg, his hands are shaking so badly. Finally he manages to get it off her and with his heart lodged in his throat he unrolls the small parchement.

 

 

_”Harry,_

 

_Please don’t worry! Your dad and I didn’t believe for a second that you said any of those things. I’m only sorry that you had to go through that. I will be writing to Dumbledore to let him know that you won’t be giving any more interviews, okay?_

 

_We will see you on the 21st, but in the meantime, if there is anything else you need, don’t hesitate to contact us!_

 

_And remember, we love you more than anything!_

 

_Yours always_

_Remus”_

 

 

The next few weeks seem to go by in a blur and on the one hand Harry is dreading the First Task so much that he wishes there was some way of slowing down time or stop it entirely… But on the other hand, he is counting down the minutes until the Saturday before the First Task — the twenty-first — because that’s the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year and that means he can go home and spend the day with his dads and Selina. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever needed that more than he needs it right now… He’s even taken to carrying his daddy’s letter around with him, just so he can take it out and read it whenever he feels particularly homesick or someone says something nasty to him in the corridors… 

 

Finally Saturday morning rolls around and before even opening his eyes Harry pushes himself up to sitting and tumbles out of bed. He can hear a strangled snicker that sounds like it’s coming from Seamus but pays him no mind, just steps into his boots and pulls his cloak on on top of his pyamas and then with a face-splitting yawn he grabs his glasses from the nightstand and bumbles blindly towards the door. 

 

”Harry!” Draco calls after him. 

 

”Not now, going home”, Harry mumbles sleepily and bumps into the doorway on his way out.

 

He’s stumbling out into the Common Room when another voice calls his name, but this time it’s coming from ahead and Harry’s recognises the voice as Blaise’s, although he’s never heard the other boy sound so worked up before. Rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, Harry finally puts his glasses on and blinks at the other boy. 

 

Blaise is slightly out of breath and there’s an almost wild look in his eyes. 

 

”I have to talk to you”, he says in a hushed voice, throwing a furtive glance over his shoulder towards the dormitories. ”Where’s Draco?”

 

”In the dorm”, Harry croaks. ”Can it wait, I’m going home to see my dads—”

 

”No, it can’t wait”, Blaise says quickly, grabbing Harry by the arm and steering him towards the door. ”I’ll tell you on the way to Hogsmeade. Let’s go—”

 

”But, what about Draco?” Harry protests feebly. ”You said—”

 

”No, no, no, Draco can’t hear about this… Come on, before he gets here!”

 

What Harry had initially read as excitement in his friend’s face, he now realises it’s closer to distress than anything and if the cool dungeon air outside the Common Room wasn’t enough to wake him up then this realisation does the trick. 

 

”What’s going on, Blaise?”

 

”I know what the first task is going to be…” Harry blinks at him and nearly stumbles over his own feet, but Blaise takes no notice, just continues pulling on his arm.  ”Keep walking…”

 

”What do you mean _you know_ —?”

 

” _Not here!_ ” Blaise hisses, glancing over his shoulder.

 

They make it out of the dungeons and outside the castle in record time, then wait restlessly in line to have their names ticked off by Filch at the gates before they can finally start the trek down the winding path into town. 

 

Harry gives his friend an impatient look, still half-expecting the whole thing to turn out to be some poor attempt at a joke, but Blaise keeps throwing covert looks at the other students around them and doesn’t say anything. His grip on Harry’s arm tightens before he slows down and forces them both to fall behind, so that they can have some privacy. 

 

He then gives Harry an apologetic look and Harry swallows a sigh, thinking it was all a practical joke after all…

 

”Dragons…”

 

”What…” Harry snaps. 

 

He’s so caught up in his exasperation, and ready to tell the other boy off for wasting his time with stupid jokes, that the word doesn’t even register at first — and when it does, he does a mental double-take — but swiftly tells himself he must have misheard.

 

” _Dragons!_ ” Blaise hisses again, his wild eyes fixing on Harry. ”Now do you see why I didn’t want Draco to find out? He’ll slip off the broomstick!… They’ve got one for each of you. Krum and the Beauxbatons girl already know about it as well, so—”

 

”What”, Harry says again, in a hollow voice. 

 

”Harry! _Focus!_ ” Blaise grabs him by the shoulders and gives him a small shake. ”You’re going to have to face a fucking _dragon_ , now I don’t know how you’re going to get out of that in one piece, but you better come up with something, because Draco will _kill you_ if you get yourself seriously hurt—!”

 

”How…” Harry croaks. ”How do you know?”

 

”I just know, okay?”

 

”No! _Not_ okay! How do you know?” Harry insists. 

 

”I…” Blaise lets go of Harry’s shoulders again and turns away slightly, sighing harshly. ”I can’t tell you exactly, but I know someone who… knows the guy who brought the dragons here from Romania… and I might have blackmailed them…”

 

Harry gapes at the other Slytherin. 

 

”Oh what…” Blaise huffs. ”Like you’ve never blackmailed anyone! Anyway, lucky for you I did, because now you know what the first task is so you can prepare—”

 

” _Prepare_?” Harry repeats incredulously. ”How the Hell am I supposed to prepare for something like that, Blaise?”

 

The other boy just shrugs awkwardly. For a moment, they just stand there in the middle of the road, halfway between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, staring helplessly at each other as the weight of the situation settles over them. Blaise, whose pathological nonchalance is usually evident by the seemingly permanent smirk on his face, now looks drawn and the grimace that twists his lips in lieu of a smile fills Harry with a hopelessness he hasn’t felt since Narcissa Side-Alonged him to that pub at the end of the summer and left him there. 

 

And just like that time, the only thing urging Harry on is the need to _get home_ , and so, despite feeling like his boots have suddenly filled with lead, he manages to put one foot in front of the other until he gets into Hogsmeade. 

 

Blaise immediately falls into step with him but doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t offer any comforting platitudes or even a good bye as they part ways outside of the Three Broomsticks, and in a way Harry is grateful for that.

 

Remus and Sirius are standing outside the front door of the cottage when he gets there and the grins pulling on their faces is the only thing preventing Harry from collapsing at their feet, but propels him instead into their waiting arms. He feels Selina brush up against his legs and stoops to scoop her up into his arms, taking comfort in her low purring as he carries her inside. 

 

He takes his seat at the kitchen table, still cradling the cat to his chest and although he’s aware of his dads worried looks, he can’t bring himself to meet them just yet. He just lets Remus dote on him, while Sirius chats away about Quidditch (the one safe subject, whatever else is going on in their lives.)

 

”Harry, put Selina down while we’re eating at least…” Remus says softly, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

 

Harry blinks, really noticing the set table for the first time. The cat struggles a little, but he manages to put her down and Remus quickly distracts her with a bowl of food of her own. 

 

They’re halfway through lunch by the time Harry brings himself to tell them about the dragons. Remus’ glass explodes in his hand, showering the table with red wine that soaks into the white table cloth and gives a blood red tint to the gleaming shards where they’ve scattered. Selina streaks out of the kitchen, spooked by the sudden noise. And Sirius and Remus both jump to their feet, Remus swearing furiously under his breath as he begins to clean up the mess with shaky hands and Sirius shouting _”It’s okay!”_ in such a panicked manner that, even if Harry had thought things _were_ okay, he definitely doesn’t think so anymore. 

 

”It’s okay, it’s just a table cloth —” Sirius says, reaching for his husband’s hands and trying to still their frantic movements.

 

”— I’ve got it —!”

 

”— Just _leave it,_ Moony —!”

 

”— _I’ve got it,_ Sirius!”

 

Remus wrenches his arm out of Sirius’ grasp and throws the shards of glass he’s carefully gathered up against the sink with such force that half of them bounce right out of it again. Harry jumps, staring in fear as his daddy’s hands curl into fists in his hair and he more or less collapses into his seat again, hyperventilating quietly. 

 

Sirius puts a cautious hand on his shoulder. When the other man doesn’t flinch or shrug him off, he carefully takes the seat next to him again and starts massaging the shoulder gently. 

 

No-one says anything for a long time. Harry just stares as his daddy — the strongest man he knows — is physically fighting to keep it together, feeling his own heart pound desperately in his chest. 

 

Sirius leans in closer and whispers something softly in his husband’s ear, his hand moving in wider and wider circles over the man’s shoulders. Remus nods silently, still struggling to get his breathing back under control. Finally he relaxes his fingers again and lets go of his blood-smeared hair and breathes in deeply, blinking tears from his eyes. 

 

Sirius curls his hand around his neck and gives it a gentle pull. Remus immediately allows himself to be hugged, burrowing his face into the crook of the other man’s neck. 

 

”I’m sorry Harry…” he says in a choked-up whisper, still hugging his husband. 

 

”It’s okay…” Sirius whispers against the side of his face. ”Harry understands… Right, Harry?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry croaks. 

 

Taking another deep breath, Remus lets go of Sirius again and sits back in his own chair. He wipes the tears from his face, smearing some blood on one of his cheeks in the process. Sirius snorts softly and shakes his head, before reaching out to wipe it off for him. 

 

”What?” Remus says, frowning in confusion. 

 

”Let me see your hands”, Sirus mutters. 

 

Remus holds out his hands and looks slightly surprised to see the small cuts in his palms, still bleeding freely. Sirius gives his husband an exasperated sigh but his lips twitch fondly. Grabbing his wand from his pocket, he heals the cuts and then plants a quick kiss on the pad of Remus’ left thumb once he’s finished. 

 

”Dragons we can deal with”, he tells Remus firmly, then turns to Harry with a reassuring smile. ”Really.”

 

”How?” Harry says hopelessly. 

 

”There’s a spell —”

 

”That’s too advanced for him though, Sirius”, Remus protests. 

 

”He’ll be fine. He’s strong. Remember he’s already done more stuff than most wizards do in a lifetime —”

 

Remus immediately shakes his head, ”That’s different. None of those situations required any advanced spell work!”

 

”He’s got three days to practise the spell, _he’ll be fine!_ ” Sirius insists. ”Harry, you’ll be fine. I have every confidence in you, okay? The spell is called the Conjunctivits Curse and if done correctly it will temporarily blind the dragon… Are you with me?”

 

Harry nods quicky.

 

”Good lad… So the incantation is _Conjunctiva,_ that’s easy enough. But the wand movement is a bit trickier. You’ll need to swing it in a slower, sort of semi-circle and then do a quick downward flick, okay? Like this… And it needs to be very precise, or the spell won’t work, okay?… See how I’m doing it? First slow, then —”

 

Remus lets out an impatient huff, ”Sirius…”

 

”— quick, like that! — yeah, what?”

 

”You’re not doing it right…”

 

”What do you mean? It’s like this —”

 

”—No, you’re —”

 

”—Slow and fast, like this —”

 

”— _No!_ You’re not doing it right! Stop! _Stop it!_ — I’ll teach it to him — _Harry,_ grab your wand. Let’s go into the lounge.”

 

Remus and Harry pratise the spell for most of the afternoon and by the time they take a break, the sun is already setting outside. Harry feels a bit better about the first task. He’s not necessarily confident that he’s got the spell down, but his daddy seems a bit calmer which can only be a good sign. If only there was some way of knowing whether he’s actually mastered the spell or not… But there really isn’t any way for him to test it out.

 

They move into the kitchen again for some tea before Harry has to return to the castle. Sirius looks smugly between the both of them, and asks them if they feel better. 

 

”Harry is doing really well”, Remus says, throwing Harry a kind smile. ”But I still think we need to come up with a back-up plan, just in case he can’t get the hang of the spell on Tuesday… It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, Harry. It’s just a really complex spell, way beyond NEWT level…”

 

Harry nods his understanding and blows on his tea. 

 

”But keep practising the wand movement, you’re doing really well… and your dad and I will try and think of something else that might help you, as well.”

 

”I’m not really supposed to accept help”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”From your teachers”, Remus says. ”There’s nothing in the rules about accepting help from friends or family. And even if there was, I wouldn’t care. We’re not helping you _win_ this Tournament, Harry. I hope you don’t have any ideas about winning, because if you get reckless so help me Merlin —”

 

”I won’t”, Harry says quickly. ”I don’t care about winning.”

 

”Good…” Remus says, relieved. ”That’s good… Just make sure you stay safe and leave the competition to the other three.”

 

”It would be awesome if he did win, though —” 

 

Remus shoots his husband a sharp look. 

 

”I’m just saying —!”

 

”Well, _don’t!_ ”

 

Harry smiles wryly, looking between his dad’s cheeky grin and his daddy’s flustered frown. It reminds him of when his daddy was yelling at Dumbledore and Mr Crouch, except compared to then, there’s no real heat behind the glare he’s directing at his husband. 

 

Then Harry remembers the moment when Barty Crouch had mistaken Remus for Sirius. He’d been surprised to hear it, and when he’d looked over at Professor Snape he’d seemed confused as well. But Remus hadn’t been confused at all, merely frustrated. 

 

”Daddy…” Harry says slowly. ”Why did Mr Crouch think you were Sirius?”

 

”What’s that?” Sirius says, looking curiously from Harry to Remus. 

 

”At Hogwarts, when daddy was — erm — talking to Dumbledore and Mr Crouch from the Ministry, Mr Crouch kept calling him Mr Black, like he thought he was you.”

 

”Did he…” Sirius says lightly, still eyeing Remus thoughtfully. 

 

”I didn’t exactly introduce myself”, Remus mumbles, blushing slightly. ”I think he just assumed I was you when Severus went to fetch Harry’s guardian and returned with me…”

 

Understanding flickers into Sirius face, but Harry is still confused. 

 

”But why though?” he insists. 

 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look and when Sirius gives Remus a half-shrug, he sighs and slumps over his folded arms on the table. He meets Harry’s eyes calmly and gives him a small smile. 

 

”Because — technically — Sirius is your only legal guardian, Harry.”

 

”What?” Harry says, numbly. ”What do you mean?”

 

Remus sighs again, ”The Ministry would never allow someone like me to adopt, Harry… It’s okay!” he adds quickly. ”It’s just a piece of paper, really… I’ll always be your daddy… Okay?”

 

”But… But… _No —_ no, it’s _not_ okay, you’re my dad — you’re _both_ my dads — they can’t just decide you’re not like that, that’s not fair—!”

 

”Harry, it’s okay”, Remus says firmly. ”It’s just a stupid piece of paper! In every way that matters, I _am_ your dad, just as much as Sirius… Come here, pup…”

 

He leans back and holds out his arm. Harry scrambles to his feet and hurries around the table to eagerly snuggle into his daddy’s waiting embrace. 

 

”That’s the least of our worries right now, pup…” Remus murmurs, hugging him tightly. ”You’ll never have to worry about that, _ever_ … You hear me?”

 

Harry nods silently.

 

”You’re right, though”, Sirius says seriously, combing his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. ”It _is_ unfair… Merlin knows anyone would be hard-pressed to find a better dad than Remus. He’s definitely a better dad, and man, than I am —”

 

”It’s not a contest”, Remus mutters, but Harry can hear the smile in his voice. 

 

”But that just goes to show you, that certificate means nothing”, Sirius adds. 

 

Harry leans back, resting his hands on Remus’ collar instead and catches his dads smiling lovingly at each other, before turning those smiles on him. He feels a surge of warmth and happiness in his chest, so strong it almost leaves him breathless. 

 

”All right, pup?” Remus asks carefully. 

 

Harry can’t find his voice, and just nods. 

 

He’s never felt more reluctant to leave home and head back to Hogwarts, but the sky is steadily darkening outside the windows and his curfew is looming closer. Sirius offers to drive him up to the castle on his motorcycle, which gives him a few extra minutes but finally, Harry has to say good bye to his daddy. 

 

”I’ll see you after the task on Tuesday, okay? Just promise me you’ll stay safe until then”, Remus murmurs passionately as he hugs him. 

 

”I promise”, Harry chokes out. 

 

 

*

 

Waving good bye to Sirius from the the other side of the gates, Harry turns around and makes his way up to the castle feeling a lot better than he felt this morning. He’s still extremely nervous about facing the dragon on Tuesday, but at least he won’t be facing it empty-handed so to speak… And even if he can’t get the Conjuctivity Curse to work, he’ll just have to get to safety and wait for help. He doesn’t have to win.

 

As Harry reaches the castle, he spots Diggory and a his friends in the courtyard and remembers Blaise telling him that Krum and Fleur knows about the dragons already. Which means Diggory is the only champion who has no idea what’s coming… _That’s not fair,_ Harry thinks. As much as he dislikes the Hufflepuff (and if he’s honest with himself, that dislike isn’t even based on anything but envy anyway, especially since he saw Draco and the girls fawn over the older boy), he is the _real_ Hogwarts champion, after all and since Harry has no intention of winning, the prize really should go to Diggory, he reasons. 

 

Mind made up, Harry picks up his pace and calls out the boy’s name. The group of Hufflepuffs slow down and look around. Diggory’s gaze finds Harry and he raises his eyebrows in surprise as Harry approaches. The other Hufflepuffs scowl at him suspisciously, but Harry ignores them. 

 

”I need to talk to you”, he tells Diggory. 

 

”Ehm… Okay…” Diggory says uncertainly. ”What’s up?”

 

”In private”, Harry grumbles, shooting a glare at the glaring girl standing so close to Diggory she’s almost shielding him from Harry.

 

”Where do you get off—?” the girl scoffs.  

 

”It’s important”, Harry tells Diggory firmly. 

 

”All right, fine”, the boy mutters. ”You guys go ahead, I’ll see you in the Common Room…”

 

After the other Hufflepuffs have disappeared inside the castle, Diggory leads Harry into the courtyard and they find a secluded bench half-hidden behind a birch tree. Neither of them actually take a seat, just stand opposite each other and subconsciously sizing the other up. 

 

”Look…” Harry says finally. ”I don’t care about winning the Tournament. I’ll just be happy to get out of it alive.”

 

Diggory gives him disbelieving look. 

 

”If you say so…”

 

”I honestly don’t care if yoou believe me”, Harry says. ”But I’ve found out what the first task is, don’t ask me how because I can’t tell you. Anyway, apparently Krum and Fleur know as well, and I thought it’s only fair if you know as well, that way it’s all equal you know…”

 

Diggory’s eyes have widened steadily during Harry’s short speech and when he trails off, the older boy just blinks at him, clearly at a loss for words. 

 

”It’s dragons”, Harry adds unceremoniously. 

 

”What?” Diggory hisses incredulously. 

 

”Yeah. I know”, Harry mumbles grimly. ”Apparently they have one for each of us…”

 

”Are you serious?”

 

”Yeah… Anyway, now you know so it’s a level playing field for your guys.”

 

”You really don’t care about winning?” Diggory asks curiously, looking like he’s actually ready to believe Harry for the first time and Harry simply shrugs. ”Then you… you really didn’t put your name in—?”

 

”No”, Harry says firmly. 

 

Eyes twinkling with genuine interest now, Diggory opens his mouth to say something else but quickly shuts it again as they hear the familiar clunking of Moody’s approaching footsteps. Harry turns around just in time to see the man limp into view from behind the tree, his magical eyes whirring madly in its socket. 

 

”Diggory… Potter… Cutting it close to curfew…” he grumbles. 

 

”Yes, Sir”, Diggory says immediately. ”We were just heading inside—”

 

”That’s grand”, Moody says. ”You go on ahead, Diggory. I want a word with Potter…”

 

Diggory’s eyes flicker back to Harry’s, but he doesn’t say anything else. Moody watches him walk out of sight before he hobbles over to the bench and lowers him onto it with a heavy sigh. 

 

”That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter…”

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the clawed foot of the professor’s wooden leg and meets his good eye politely. The magical one flicks round to zoom in on him as well. 

 

”Have a seat…”

 

”Sir? What about the curfew?”

 

”Won’t take a moment. Sit down.”

 

Harry gingerly perches on the opposite end of the bench and watches the ex-Auror apprehensively. 

 

”So… You’ve found out about the dragons”, Moody says seriously. ”Got any ideas how you’re going to get past yours yet?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles. ”Ehm, my dads told me about this spell, I’ve been practising it all day…”

 

”A whole day, eh? And how long does it usually take you to learn a new spell?”

 

”Wh-what?”

 

”In Charms”, Moody clarifies. ”How many lessons does it usually take you to learn a new spell?”

 

”Er… Well, it… it depends, I guess…”

 

”Hmm…” Moody says, his magical eye swivelling quickly. ”From what I hear, Charms isn’t your strong suit.”

 

Feeling slightly indignant, Harry frowns. 

 

”Don’t look so offended”, Moody grumbles. ”I’m just going to give you some good advice, and it is this: play to your _strengths_ … Now, if spell work isn’t one of them, then may I suggest that a complex spell, way above your level, isn’t the best strategy for getting past this dragon?”

 

”Then what do you suggest?” Harry snaps, then quickly catching himself, adding a _Sir_.

 

”I’ve already told you. _Play to your strengths_ —”

 

”What if I don’t _have_ any strengths —?”

 

”Excuse me, you’ve got strengths if I say you’ve got them. Just think. What are you good at? What are you _best_ at?”

 

”Nothing…” Harry says dully. 

 

” _Think_ —!”

 

” _I dunno!_ ” Harry exclaims in frustration. ”Quidditch? I guess I’m a decent flier? But a fat lot of help —”

 

”That’s right”, Moody interrupts him abruptly, his good eye staring at him very hard. ”You’re a damn good flier, from what I’ve heard.”

 

”Yeah, but…” Harry blinks. ”But I’m not allowed my broom, just my wand —”

 

”My second piece of general advice”, Moody interrupts him again, speaking loudly and clearly. ”Is to use a _simple_ spell, that you can actually learn in two days, that will enable you to _get what you need_ …”

 

Harry continues to stare at the man. The magical eye flits into place so that both eyes bore into him. But he just gives his head a small shake. What do I need? 

 

”Come on, boy…” Moody hisses. ”Put them together… It’s not that difficult…”

 

Suddenly it clicks. He’s a good flier, a lot more coordinating in the air than on his feet, his dads have always said so and Draco even hinted at him being as good of a flier as Krum once. So what he _needs_ is to face the dragon in the air, and to do that he needs his Nimbus. And to get his Nimbus, he needs to _summon it_ … 

 

”Professor…” Harry says, feeling sightly breathless with excitement. ”Do you know any simple summoning spells?”

 

” _Accio_ ”, Moody says with a grin. 

 

When Harry returns to the Common Room, his friends are sitting oin front of the fireplace, Blaise and Theodore are playing wizarding chess and Seamus is watching them idly, but Draco is nowhere to be seen. When Seamus doesn’t ask him if he wants to play Exploding Snap, Harry knows something is up. 

 

”He’s in the dorm”, Blaise says in an undertone. ” _I_ didn’t tell him _anything_ …”

 

Harry mumbles a _thanks_ and walks over to the boys dormitories. Draco is lying on top of his bed, reading a book and doesn’t look up when Harry walks in. 

 

”Hey…” Harry says lightly, perching on the side of his bed. 

 

Draco says nothing, just turns a page in his book. 

 

”What’s wrong?” 

 

”Nothing.”

 

Harry huffs and rubs his forehead tiredly, ”Well, _clearly_ —”

 

”Do you mind, I’m trying to read.”

 

”Draco… Draco, put the book down and look at me… please? Look, I’m really tired and I don’t want to go to bed thinking you’re angry with me, so can we please talk about whatever —?”

 

”No thanks…”

 

”Draco, for fuck’s —!”

 

Slamming his book shut with a _snap,_ Draco looks up and meets Harry’s gaze finally. 

 

”I haven’t seen you _all day_ ”, he says icily. ”Not since you literally walked straight past me this morning, without as much as a good morning, before you fucked off to Hogsmeade _without me,_ so excuse _me_ if I don’t particularly feel like talking right now!”

 

”Draco, I spent the day with my parents”, Harry says. ”You knew I was going to —”

 

”Fine”, Draco says in a clipped tone. ”What about the evening?”

 

”What?”

 

”Did you spend the evening with them as well? Because _I_ distinctly remember seeing you and _Cedric Diggory_ walking off together, as I was coming back from Hogsmeade and considering how far into this stupid book I’ve got, you spent quite a long time with him as well!”

 

Harry justs stares at him. 

 

”Well?” the blonde demands. ”What have you got to say for yourself?”

 

”I needed to tell Diggory something about the first task — no, listen! — I found out something about the first task today and I wanted to let Diggory know, but we only talked for about five minutes! Then Professor Moody showed up and wanted to speak to me — I swear — Diggory went inside and I spent all that time talking to Moody!”

 

”Why?” Draco asks, narrowing his eyes suspisciously. ”Why did Moody want to talk to you?”

 

”I’m not realy sure. He overheard me helping Diggory and I suppose he just wanted to help _me_ , I dunno…”

 

”He _helped_ you? How?”

 

”Oh, he gave me an idea about how I’m going to — erm — deal with the first task”, Harry says vaguely. 

 

But when the other boy gives him a hard look, he sighs and spills everything. Draco’s eyes widens almost comically and by the time Harry has finished talking, he’s hyperventilating in a similar fashion to Remus when he found out about the dragons, so Harry takes a leaf out of his dad’s book and tries to calm the blonde down by rubbing circles on his back and murmuring reassuring nonsense. 

 

”What are you _talking_ about?” Draco exclaims. 

 

”Just… It’s… It’s going to be fine, I know what to do —”

 

” _You know what to do?_ ”

 

”Well, yeah… Even if I can’t get the blinding spell to work, I can just summon my broom like Moody suggested… You know I’ll be fine to get around the dragon if I can just fly!”

 

Draco just shakes his head, but his breathing is getting under control again and at the mention of Harry flying, the panic disappears from his eyes again as well.

 

”Let’s go to bed…” Harry says softly, brushing a kiss into the dip under the boy’s cheekbone. ”What do you say?”

 

”All right…” the blonde mumbles. ”But why was Moody helping you, though? The teachers aren’t allowed to help the champions!”

 

Harry shrugs, ”Moody doesn’t exactly care about doing what he’s supposed to…”

 

”I guess”, Draco mumbles, but the frown line between his eyebrows doesn’t fade from his face until Harry kisses it away.


	24. The First Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time!
> 
> Sorry in advance for the emotional rollercoaster (but, I mean, it's DRACO, so you guys had better get used to it!) ;)

In the remaining two days leading up to the First Task, the anti-Harry campaign seems to double its effort and even though Diggory and his closest friends in Hufflepuff (who were the ones who used to quote the _Prophet_ article at Harry every chance they got, before Harry told Diggory about the dragons) stop harassing him in the corridors, others jump at the chance to replace them so wherever Harry goes inside the castle he’s still constantly followed by nasty comments, taunts and even threats… 

 

It’s even worse than the whispers and looks he received in Second Year when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, because at least then they were all scared of him and didn’t dare get in his face for fear of having a monster set on them. Now, he can barely get from class to class without someone physically blocking his way or tripping him. 

 

” _Diffindo!_ ”

 

Harry trips over slightly as his heavy book bag rips, splling his books all over the floor and shifting his whole centre of gravity. He whips his head around in time to see a small group of Hufflepuff Sixth Years grin maliciously at him, the girl in the centre quickly stuffing her wand out of sight.

 

”Watch it”, her friend snickers. ”Or he’ll sic his daddy on you…”

 

”I don’t care — it’s the new moon, I can take him!” the girl replies loudly, her eyes never wavering from Harry’s.

 

Forcing himself to push his anger down with a deep breath, when all he _really_ wants to do is hex the grins off of the Hufflepuff girls faces, Harry counts backwards from ten like his dad has taught and then kneels down and starts collecting his books.

 

By Monday afternoon he’s so fed up with it that he skives off the last lesson of the day, skips dinner and heads straight to the Common Room. He focuses on practising his Summoning Charm until the doorway to the Common Room opens and his friends walk in. 

 

The worry in Draco’s face immediately melts away when his gaze settles on Harry and he walks over and dumps two rolls and an apple in his lap, before squeezing down next to him in the armchair. 

 

”I thought skipping meals was my thing”, he mutters.

 

”I’ve been practising the Summoning Charm”, Harry says and bites into one of the rolls. ”I was going to sneak into the kitchen later…”

 

He smiles at Blaise, Seamus and Theodore as the three boys join them in front of the fire, Blaise and Theodore settling into the love seat next to them and Seamus spreading out on the rug. 

 

”How’s it coming along? The Summoning Charm?” Blaise asks. 

 

” _Accio_ cushion”, Harry says, pointing his wand at the cushion wedged between Blaise’s hip and the armrest and it flies forward, whacking Theodore in the back of the head before soaring into Harry’s outstretched hand. 

 

”Ow”, Theodore mutters, but the others ignore him.

 

”Not bad…” Blaise says with a smirk. ”See, Draco… I told you there was nothing to worry about!”

 

”And _I_ told _you_ I’ll believe you if Harry is still in one piece on Wednesday! He doesn’t need to summon a cushion from two metres away, he needs to summon a broomstick from inside a castle about a thousand and two metres away!”

 

Dread coils in Harry’s stomach again. The roll he’s just finished seems to try and climb back up again. Harry swallows thickly and puts the other roll and the apple down on the floor. Draco gives him a knowing look, his lips pressed thin. 

 

”Summon your broom from the dorm”, he says. 

 

Harry takes a deep breath, ” _Accio_ Nimbus!”

 

A minute later, his Nimbus Two Thousand comes soaring into the Common Room and he jumps up and grabs it before it smacks Draco in the face. 

 

”That’s better…” Draco mumbles. ”Now go outside and stand by the edge of the forest and do the same thing.”

 

”I’m not leaving the Common Room”, Harry mutters and sits back down. 

 

”Fine. I’ll go outside with the broom and you summon it back here”, Draco says and grabs the broom from him as he stands up. 

 

Harry sighs, slumping down further in his seat. Draco gives him an impatient look and he sighs again, but nods. 

 

”Give me fifteen minutes”, Draco says and stalks over to the doorway, Harry’s Nimbus in a tight grip by his side. 

 

”You know, if the pink-eye curse fails and you can’t summon your broom, plan C could be to just chuck Draco at it…” Blaise says lightly. 

 

”He’s not _that_ bad”, Harry mutters, but he can’t help but to return the other boy’s smirk. 

 

When Harry successfully summons his broomstick from outside the castle, he actually starts to feels good about himself and his prospects for surviving the First Task and when Draco returns to the Common Room looking slightly less tense than when he’d left, Harry feels even better. 

 

But when he wakes up the next morning, his panic sets in again… _So I can summon my broom,_ he thinks hysterically. _So what? I still have to face a fucking dragon!_

 

He swings his legs over the side of his four-poster and just sits there for a moment, swaying slightly and shivering in the cool dungeon air. He pushes himself to his feet and starts to replace his pyjamas with his school uniform and robes, his movements jerky but determined. 

 

Draco is waiting for him by the door and doesn’t say anything, just gives him a gentle smile when he finally joins him. Harry tries to return it, but his face feels numb and he just ends up twitching nervously. 

 

”Like the button?” the blonde asks. 

 

Twisting his body sligthtly, he shows off a large emerald green button next to his Slytherin crest that Harry hadn’t noticed. It says ”Harry Potter RULES” in bright yellow letters. Despite the coiling panic in the pit of his stomach, Harry lets out an amused huff.

 

”Check it out…” Draco murmurs and pokes the button with his index finger. 

 

Harry watches as the yellow letters begin to swirl madly and when it stops again, the words have been replaced with an image of a pair of round glasses under a mop of messy black hair and in-between the two sits a lightening bolt in the same bright yellow as the letters had been. 

 

 

This time around, when he tries, Harry gets his lips to cooperate enought that it comes off less like a grimace and more like an actual smile. When they join the other Slytherins in the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry is pleasantly surprised and quite touched to see similar green buttons on all of their robes as well. Draco watches him closely and when Harry meets his eyes, smirks proudly. 

 

As they finish breakfast and make their way to the first lesson of the day, Harry’s good mood quickly deflates again and his nerves kick back in. 

 

Draco and the other Slytherins seem to sense his inner turmoil, because they give him a wide berth throughout the day (except for Draco who keeps so close to his side Harry accidentally walks into him twice when turning too quickly) and except for sporting the green buttons, they don't mention the First Task or the Tournament at all, not even to wish him good luck, and for that Harry is extremely grateful. The buttons are enough to counter act the hissed taunts he gets from the students in the other houses, and Draco’s constant presence next to him really helps ground him as well.

 

Time seems to pass even quicker than it has in the past few weeks, now going so fast that it appears to be skipping large chunks every time Harry blinks. One minute he’s sitting in Transfiguration staring at his half-transfigured pin cushion without really seeing it and the next minute he finds himself in Potions, staring at the rising fumes of his Girding Potion as the bell for lunch rings, wondering where the morning went… 

 

Professor Snape strides over to him and takes one look at the contents of his cauldron and emits a short sigh of frustration. Harry blinks up at him. The scowl on the man’s face smoothes out slightly. His gaze flickers over to Draco’s cauldron briefly, before settling on Harry again.

 

”Draco, let Harry test your potion…”

 

”But I already tested it, Sir —”

 

”Just do it!” Snape snaps. 

 

Harry turns to see Draco’s frown fade from his face and realisation seep into his eyes. He meets Harry’s eyes and quickly ladles up some of his potion and hands it to him. Harry takes the ladle from him and carefully sips the rather foul-smelling liquid. 

 

”Drink the whole thing”, Snape murmurs. ”Then clear your bench and go to lunch.”

 

He sweeps away from them again, his robes billowing behind him as swoops down on Longbottom and starts  insulting the Gryffindor boy’s poor brewing skills like it’s a normal day like any other. Harry stares at the scene, feeling oddly removed from himself like he’s outside his own body watching the classroom from a distance. 

 

”You heard the man, drink up”, Draco says and gives his arm a gentle prod. 

 

Harry blinks and looks down at the oozing potion. 

 

”Why wouldn’t he let me test my own?” he mumbles. 

 

”Because you burned yours”, Draco says with a fond eye-roll. ”Mine’s perfect…”

 

”Okay, so why am I drinking it then, if you already know that?”

 

”Same reason Professor Snape had us brew it in the first place, instead of the antidotes we’re working on…”

 

”Oh yeah…” Harry says faintly. ”We should have been brewing our anti-dotes today, so why —?”

 

Draco rolls his eyes again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and folding his arms across his chest. 

 

”What does this potion do again?” Harry asks, taking another sip and almost gagging. 

 

”It gives the consumer _extra endurance_ …” Draco says slowly. ”Now drink up already, so we can go to lunch. I’m starving.”

 

For once, Harry is the one shifting his food around on the plate while Draco is shuffling vegetables into his mouth at record speed and chewing almost mechanically. 

 

”You’re going to need your strength, Harry”, Seamus says seriously. ”You need to eat!”

 

”I know”, he mutters and forces another morsel down, swallowing several times to keep it down.

 

Professor Snape comes striding down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table and stops behind Harry and Draco, who both twists around in their seats to look up at him. 

 

”Harry”, the Potions Master says curtly. ”It’s time.”

 

Harry swallows thickly and nods, clambering off the bench and following his Head of House out of the Great Hall, keenly aware of every eye on him. 

 

Professor Snape seems even stonier now than he’d been during their Potions lesson before lunch. His impossibly white face looks drawn and he keeps pressing his lips together grimly. 

 

”How do you feel?” he asks quietly. 

 

His dark eyes flits over to Harry’s and Harry immediately ducks his head and stares at the grass beneath his feet instead. He opens his mouth to answer, but for some reason he can’t get his voice to leave his throat. Probably because there’s a large lump lodged there and no sound can get past it. 

 

”Just don’t do anything reckless”, Snape continues. ”There are several wizards standing by, myself included, should the… _situation_ … get out of hand, _but_ it doesn’t have to for us to step in. Do you understand? You need only signal that you wish to stop and I — we — will come to your aid. No-one will think any less of you, okay?… Harry?… _Harry!_ ”

 

”Yes”, Harry hears himself say. ”I understand…”

 

Snape leads him towards the Dark Forest and as they walk along edge of it, a large tent comes into view. 

 

”You’re to go inside and wait with the other champions”, Snape says as they stop just outside the entrance. ”Mr Bagman is in there as well and he’ll give you further instructions… Now, don’t forget what I’ve told you; keep a cool head and don’t get reckless—”

 

Harry nods. 

 

”— that includes attempting to complete the task, if completeing it puts you in a situation where great harm might befall you.”

 

Harry nods again, feeling slightly sick to the stomach. 

 

”And signal for help”, Snape adds. ”Okay, then… Good luck, Harry.”

 

Harry opens his mouth to say thanks, but again no sound comes out. Feeling his stomach churn, he snaps his mouth shut again just in case… Snape presses his lips together and gives him a curt nod, before swirling around and stalking back along the edge of the forest without another word. Harry watches him go, feeling a strong urge to call out and beg him to stay… Luckily, his voice isn’t working, so he doesn’t embarrass himself by doing so. 

 

He walks inside the tent. The other three champions are all there already. 

 

Diggory is pacing along the far side of the tent, looking tense and troubled but he gives Harry a small, pinched smile when he sees him, before he starts pacing again. 

 

Fleur is sitting in a corner, composed as ever but without her usual haughty air. Instead her pale face looks drawn and clammy, and she keeps blinking unseeingly at her lap where her tight fists are clutching the material of her robes. 

 

Krum is standing hunched over in another corner, looking surlier than ever. Harry gives him a nod and he nods back, his furrowed brows relaxing slightly but the corners of his mouth continuing to droop grimly. 

 

”Harry! Good-oh!” Bagman exclaims happily, walking up to him and clapping him hard on the back. ”Come in, come in, and make yourself at home!”

 

He is wearing his old Quidditch uniform again, his bulging belly accentuated by the horizontal stripes and making him look like an obese bumblebee. 

 

”Right then, now that we’re all here, time to fill you in!” he says excitedly and waves the others over. ”Gather round, gather round — in a minute I am going to offer this bag to you each in turn”, he holds up a small silk bag and shakes it in front of each of their faces almost teasingly. ”Inside are four small models of the thing you are about to face — they come in different varieties, you see — and you will each be assigned the one represented by the model you pick from the bag! Neat, isn’t it? — _Now! —_ There was something else I was supposed to tell you… Ah, yes… Your task is to _collect the golden egg!_ ”

 

He beams at them all in turn and although none of them smile back, he keeps grinning and bounces excitedly on his feet. 

 

”We just have to wait for the audience to arrive, and then we’re good to go!”

 

Soon they can hear the muffled sound of hundreds and hundreds of footsteps and excited voices as the rest of the school hurries past the tent. 

 

”Ladies first”, Bagman says and holds out the bag for Fleur. 

 

She gingerly reaches inside and pulls out a small but perfectly detailed model of a Welsh Green dragon and around its tiny neck hangs a small amulet with the number two engraved on its face. Harry looks from Fleur’s resigned face to Bagman’s and catches a flare of surprise in the man’s eyes, probably because he’d expected a bigger reaction from a young girl who just found out she’s about to come face to face with a dragon, not realising that she’d had that reaction weeks ago when she first heard about the dragons.

 

Same goes for Krum and Diggory, who each respectively pull out a model of Chinese Fireball with the number three around its neck and a Swedish Short-Snout assigned with the number one, and while Krum immediately walks back to his corner to wait, Diggory pulls himself up to his full height and takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself to go first. 

 

Resigning himself to go last, Harry also takes a deep breath, and reaches inside the bag. His fingers close around a small, spiky object and his stomach flips… He pulls out the small dragon and holds it in the palm of his hand. It flaps its tiny wings and bares its fangs menacingly at him, but all Harry can focus on are the massive spikes around its head and all down its spine which turns into a long tail that looks like some kind of medieval weapon with its many sharp spikes at the end. 

 

”Ah, the Hungarian Horntail”, Bagman says and gives an exaggerated shudder, then winks at Harry. 

 

Harry feels a strong impulse to hex the man, but he closes his hand around the model and focuses on the dull pain of the many spikes cutting into his palm and counts backwards from ten.

 

”You have each pulled out the dragon you will face”, Bagman tells the group at large, but none of them pay him much attention anymore. ”And the number, as I’m sure you’ll have worked out, refers to the order in which you’ll take on your dragon… Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment, because I’m commentatiing, you see… Mr Diggory, you’re first, so when you hear the first whistle you just go out into the enclosure, all right?”

 

Diggory gives him a small nod, already turning away. He begins to pace up and down again, his Swedish Short-Snout clasped in a tight fist along his side. 

 

”Excellent”, Bagman exclaims. ”Well, good luck to you all… Now, Harry, could I have a quick word? Outside?”

 

Harry blinks in surprise, ”Er… Yeah, I suppose…”

 

He follows Bagman out of the tent again, and the man leads him down the edge of the forest and looks around furtively before giving Harry an almost fatherly look of compassion and grabbing his shoulder. 

 

”Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?”

 

”What?” Harry says. ”No — I — I’m fine…”

 

”Got a plan?” Bagman asks, lowering his voice further. ”Because I don’t mind sharing a few pointers you know, if you’d like them, I mean… you’re the underdog here, Harry so… anything I can do to help…”

 

Harry frowns, feeling slightly perturbed. It’s one thing for his friends and family, and even Snape, to be concerned about him. But Bagman is an Ministry Official. 

 

”No-one would know, Harry…” Bagman adds, giving him a sly wink. 

 

”I’m _fine_ ”, Harry says firmly. 

 

Suddenly a whistle can be heard in the near distance and Bagman jumps, staring over at the dragon enclosure in alarm. 

 

”Good Lord, I’ve got to run!” he says and hurries off. 

 

Harry walks back to the tent, but before he can slip inside, a hand closes tightly around his wrist. Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and he wheels around in a panic. He just has time to register the white-blonde hair and steel grey eyes, before eager lips are on his and his eyelids flutter closed instinctively. 

 

The fingers around his wrist come up to nestle in his hair instead, strong hands bookending his face as a persistant tongue begins to lap at his lips. 

 

Grabbing at the material of the other boy’s robes, Harry presses their bodies flush together, desperate for closeness and — as warmth pools in his belly and then trickles lower and lower — for friction. His hips buck as if they have a mind of their own. His growing hardness grinding against Draco who gasps and mirrors the movement twice before wrenching himself away. They stand a mere inch apart, staring at each other in stunned silence, with chests heaving and pupils blown. 

 

”I just came to wish you good luck”, Draco says in a strangled, almost wrecked voice. 

 

Harry nods quickly. Dread and fear is once again coiling in his chest as he’s reminded of what he’s about to do, but his stomach flutters as he stares into the other boy’s eyes and he can’t help but to marvel at how dark they are now, darker than he’s ever seen before… He can feel his erection wilt more and more with every gasp and scream from the nearby audience, reminding him of what awaits him on the other side but the warmth is still pooling in his sternum.

 

”You know, you don’t even have to go out there”, Draco says. ”You can just forfeit, you don’t have to do anything!”

 

”I…” Harry croaks, shaking his head. 

 

”You don’t have to prove anything! You shouldn’t even be in this Tournament!” Draco says, his pleading eyes filling with tears. ” _Please_ , Harry! Just forfeit!”

 

”I can’t…” Harry hears himself say. 

 

Maybe it’s the accumulated weight of all the looks and comments he’s received since his name came out of the Goblet of Fire that has been piling on to him, or maybe it’s the fact that even Ludo Bagman seems so sure that he’ll fail that he was willing to compromise his reputation, and maybe even his job, by offering Harry help, but whatever the reason, Harry is starting to feel a rather mutinous sense of defiance like a small but steady flame in the pit of his stomach. 

 

 _This is what they’ve all been worried about,_ he realises and his mind flashing back to his dads in the kitchen — _I hope you don’t have any ideas about winning, Harry, because if you get reckless so help me, Merlin—! Just make sure you stay safe and leave the competition to the other three! —_ and Professor Snape earlier when he walked him to the tent — _Don’t get reckless… No-one will think any less of you…_

 

 _But they will,_ Harry thinks. _Unless I don’t at least_ try _to get past the dragon, everyone will think I’m a complete coward!_

 

Draco bats the tears from his face and scowls at him. There’s another collective gasp from the audience behind them.

 

”Harry James Potter”, Draco grinds out. ”You will not go anywhere near that dragon, do you hear me!”

 

”I need to go back inside”, Harry says. 

 

”Did you hear what I just said?” Draco demands. 

 

”You should go back to your seat —”

 

” _Harry!_ ”

 

”— I’ll see you after.”

 

Harry turns away and enters the tent again. Diggory is gone and Fleur and Krum look even paler than before. Harry sinks down on the nearest chair and stares out into the space in front of him, the small flame in his gut growing hotter and hotter as his resolve builds. 

 

Suddenly there’s a roar from the audience followed by applause. Harry, Krum and Fleur all exchange grim looks and Fleur stands up, her back straight as a pole as she approaches the opening. As the whistle rings out in the expectant hush, she sucks in a deep breath and leaves the tent. Harry and Krum lock eyes across the small space. Then Harry looks down again. 

 

He tries to drown out the noise of the audience and Bagman’s nerve-wrackingly vivid commentary. The canvas walls of the tent have gone from the light yellow of mid-day to a deep orange as the afternoon wears on and evening begins to fall. 

 

”Are you all right?” a gruff voice says above Harry suddenly and he startles, not having noticed the other occupant of the tent moving closer. 

 

”I’m fine”, he says, just as the whistle is blown for a third time. ”Good luck…”

 

Sitting alone inside the tent, listening to the chorus of screams and gasps and cheers from the audience, as well as Bagman’s commentary that seems to get more and more frantic, Harry starts to feel numb again, like he did earlier in Potions when he felt like he was watching the classroom from afar, like he wasn’t in his own body anymore. 

 

Draco’s words keep echoing in his head: _You don’t have to prove anything! You shouldn’t even be in this Tournament!_

 

 _But I am,_ Harry thinks firmly. _So I have to do this._

 

A deafening roar erupts from the audience and Harry blinks. 

 

 _Already?_ he thinks faintly, as Bagman confirms that Krum has indeed got the egg from the Chinese Fireball, his excited shouts barely audible over the dragon’s horrible shriek.

 

Standing up on wobbly legs, Harry tries to focus on his breathing… His heart is pounding in his chest and his  hands are tingling unpleasantly. He tries to shake them, but it does nothing to the prickling sensation in his fingertips. 

 

The applause from the audience dies down, leaving nothing but a dense silence. Finally the whistle cuts through it and Harry’s heart skips a beat before returning to its frantic pitter-patter. 

 

Shaking his hands once more, Harry sucks in a deep breath and walks out of the tent…  

 

Blinking in the sudden light from the evening sun in his direct eyeline, he releases the breath again slowly, as he looks around. Hundreds of faces are staring down at him from all sides. And at the other end of the small enclosure, the Hungarian Horntail lies crouched protectively over her clutch of eggs, her yellow eyes shining back at him… She draws her furled wings closer to her body and thrashes her spiky tail restlessly over the ground… Harry gulps as he stares at the deep gouge marks left behind as the tail curls back again, before bearing down on the ground once more… 

 

He clutches his wand tightly and tries to remember the movement for the Conjunctivits Curse. But it doesn’t matter, he realises. He’s not going to get near enough to aim it at the dragon’s eyes anyway, not with that tail… Instead, he focuses all of his concentration and will on his Nimbus Two Thousand, waiting to be Summoned on top of his four-poster bed in the dungeons. 

 

” _Accio Nimbus!_ ” he shouts. 

 

There is a ripple of noise from the audience, but Harry drowns it out. It might be in support of him, or it might not, but he can’t afford to get distracted, not now… He looks around desperately, scanning the sky for his broom… _What if it didn’t work?… This was plan B, what do I do if —?_

 

But then he hears the familiar soaring noise behind him and spins around, his heart leaping at the sight of the broomstick speeding towards him. He grabs it with one hand and swings his leg over it, kicking off the ground before the broom has even stopped completely. 

 

He feels the familiar lurch in his belly as he soars into the air. There is a collective intake of breath from the audience and Bagman is shouting ecstatically, but as Harry speeds up all he can think about is the wind rushing in his ears and whipping his hair all over the place… And for a moment, he feels like he’s back on the Quidditch pitch. 

 

The noises from the stands, the frantic drone of the commentating voice, the solid wood between his legs, the rough surface of the broom handle pressed between his hands and the swooping sensation in his belly as he flies in a loop and swerves — it’s all just another Quidditch match — and _there_ , amongst the regular white eggs between the Hungarian Horntail’s clawed feet, glints the golden egg — _the Snitch,_ Harry tells himself — and now he just has to deploy a diversionary tactics, like Flint taught him in Second Year…

 

So he dives. Keeping eye contact with the dragon the whole time, Harry plummets towards the ground and just as the beast opens its mouth and lets out a jet of fire, Harry pulls out of the dive and narrowly avoids getting toasted. 

 

”Great Scott, he can fly!” Bagman hollers over the shrieks and gasps from the audience. 

 

Harry dives again, swerving to avoid another jet of fire but nearly getting swatted by the massive tail instead… one of the spikes grazes his shoulder and he can feel his flesh pound in pain… There are groans and hisses from the audience, but again Harry drowns them out. Glancing at his arm quickly, he sees a bleeding gash peek out of the rip in his robes, but it doesn’t look too deep… _I’m fine_ , he tells himself firmly and focuses again on the dragon’s gleaming yellow eyes, as he zooms round its back.

 

She cranes her neck and twists her body, so that she can keep him in her crossfire, but she doesn’t move away from her eggs. Harry realises that if he’s going to have a chance, he needs to get her to at least stand up, even if it’s just for a second, just long enough for him to grab the golden egg… But she is too protective of her eggs, so the only way he’s going to be able to lure her away is if he manages to trick her… 

 

Soaring higher again, Harry begins to flit from one side to the other, circling the beast’s head, not near enough to make her breathe fire, but still enough of a threat that she keeps her eyes pinned to him. Rising higher and higher, Harry circles the dragon again, silently willing her to come get him… She stretches her neck to its fullest, letting out a frustrated roar as he flits back and forth above her, like an annoying fly you just want to swat, he keeps zooming back and forth, teasing her… _Come on… Come and get me…_

 

The dragon starts to unfurls her wings and flaps them menacingly, preparing to take flight, but still she hesitates… 

 

”Come on…” Harry mumbles, swerving above her. ”Come _on_ …”

 

Finally, she rears. There is a collective intake of breath from the stands around them as the black wings spread to their full span, but before the dragon has realised what’s happened, Harry has dived once more. 

 

He flattens himself along the length of his broom, the wind roaring in his ears as he speeds towards the eggs, now unprotected by the dragon’s front legs, letting go of the handle at the last second and grabbing the golden one —

 

Tucking the egg under his uninjured arm and grabbing the broom with his other hand, Harry ignores the pain shooting through his arm and pulls up in the air again. Avoiding yet another jet of fire, he zooms up over the stands and out of harm’s way. 

 

”Look at that!” Bagman is yelling hoarsely. ”Will you _look at that!_ Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter, make no mistake—!”

 

As Harry watches from above, the dragon-keepers rush into the enclosure to subdue the dragon and several other wizards move to stand at the entrance, Harry can only really recognise Hagrid from this distance, but the figure next to him is dressed in all black and has black hair that nearly reaches his shoulders, and Harry thinks it must be Professor Snape. As he touches down in front of them, his suspiscion is confirmed. The Potions Master is the only one not smiling at Harry, but his dark eyes are shining in a way that Harry is _almost certain_ would be a face-splitting grin on anyone else.

 

”You’ll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score”, he says in a flat voice and nodding towards Harry’s bleeding shoulder. 

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry wheezes, still catching his breath. 

 

”Nice and easy does the trick, Potter”, a gruff voice says from the other side of Hagrid and Harry turns to see Moody’s magical eye flit over his face. 

 

”Harry”, Snape says, a little more insistent. ”First-aid tent, please. Over there.”

 

Harry nods quickly and hurries over to a smaller tent. Madam Pomfrey is waiting for him outside, looking anxious. 

 

”Dragons!” she says furiously, ushering him inside. ”What are they going to bring into the school next, _dementors?_ ”

 

She pushes Harry down on top of a small bunk and begins to inspect the wound in his arm. 

 

”You’re very lucky, Potter, this is quite shallow… It’ll need cleaning before I heal it up, though…”

 

Harry winces as she dabs a purple liquid into the wound that immediately starts hissing and smoking. But then she flicks her wand over it and Harry feels it heal instantly, both the trobbing and the stinging fading away completely. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” 

 

He looks up to see both his dads file into the tent, their wild expressions barely softening as they lay eyes on him. Remus is on him in the blink of an eye, his hands grabbing at him roughly as if feeling for hidden injuries. 

 

”Daddy, I’m fine—!” Harry gasps and with a yelp, he is lifted off the bunk as the man pulls him roughly into his arms. 

 

”Merlin’s beard, Harry…” Sirius says faintly. ”That was some flying…”

 

Remus arms tighten further around him and he whimpers, imagining he felt at least one of his ribs cracking… 

 

”All right, ease up a little, Moony…” Sirius says, patting his husband’s shoulder. 

 

With a muffled growl, Remus shoves his face into the crock of Harry’s neck and inhales deeply. Harry can feel the wetness of his tears smear over his skin and feels a stab of guilt. Finally, Remus lowers him back to the ground, but keeps an hand clamped on his shoulder, even as Sirius steps forward to steal a quick hug as well.

 

Professor Snape sticks his head inside the tent and tells them the judges are ready with the scores and Harry walks back out flanked by his dads. The audience erupts in cheers when they see him and Harry feels his face grow hot, but grins happily. As much as he would like to believe that all of their taunts and insults hadn’t got under his skin, there’s no denying the lightness he feels now that most of them seem to be happy for him. 

 

Draco comes running up to him and crashes into him, hissing furiously in his ear, ”You’re completely mad!”

 

He quickly steps back again and even though he tries to remain stern, there is no mistaking the softness around his shining eyes. Harry grins back, but says nothing. He doesn’t have the words to express what he’s feeling right now… Adrenaline is still coursing through his system, his legs slightly shaky from it and his chest tight with emotion and still he feels incredibly light… so light in fact that, if his daddy’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t weighing him down, he might just soar away again, even without his broom… the noise from the audience reaches an almost deafening level and as he looks up at the hundreds upon hundreds of grinning faces, he feels so overwhelmed he doesn’t even know what to think… 

 

”Come on, Harry… Let’s see what the judges thought”, Sirius says. 

 

Now that the dragon has been removed from the enclosure, Harry can see the raised seats draped in gold where the five judges are sitting. 

 

Madam Maxime goes first, raising her wand into the air… a long, silver ribbon shoots out of it and twists around in the air, creating a large figure eight. The audience applauds and Sirius thumps Harry on the shoulder. 

 

Mr Crouch and Professor Dumbledore both award him nine points, and Harry can’t help but to beam as his dad who whoops excitedly and claps his hands. But when he turns to look up at his daddy and catches the annoyed look the man throws his husband, Harry’s good spirits single down again… he remembers promising his daddy that he wasn’t bothered about winning…

 

 _But it was just this one task,_ he tells himself. _It’s just that… I did_ good. _I’m allowed to celebrate that I did good, it doesn’t mean I’m going to get reckless in the other Tasks! I still don’t care about winning the Tournament!_

 

Sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Remus quickly forces a smile onto his face but Harry can still see the sligtly haunted look in his eyes and steps a little closer to him so that he’s snuggled into his side. The hand on his right shoulder immediately slides over to the left and his daddy hugs him a little closer. 

 

It’s Bagman’s turn to give his score and with a dazzling grin, he shoots his ribbon into the air… it twists frantically, a lot faster than the others, and as soon as it settles, Harry sees why… Bagman has scored him ten points. 

 

” _Ten?_ ” Remus says incredulously and Harry can hear the suspiscion in his voice. 

 

”But I got injured”, Harry says. ”What’s he playing at—?”

 

”Oh, _you two!_ ” Sirius says in exasperation, even as the grin continues to stretch his face. ”Why can’t you just be happy for once — FOUR?” he adds furiously, the grin slipping off his face immediately as he glares at the ribbon that’s just shot out of Karkaroff’s wand. ” _You miserable slimeball,_ you gave Krum _ten_ and he broke half the eggs—!”

 

Most of the audience seems to agree with him, because they begin to boo. Even Draco looks indignant, Harry notices and that’s really all he cares about… His dads and his friends. He couldn’t care less what Karkaroff thinks, and anyway… He only scored him low, because he’s looking out for Krum, so it doesn’t mean anything… 

 

”Still… You’re tied for first place, Harry!” Sirius says. 

 

”And we don’t care about that”, Remus says in a clipped tone and gives the other man a meaningful look. 

 

”Relax, Moony…” Sirius says. ”It’s not as bad as we feared. They’ve got good security measu—”

 

”That’s enough”, Remus snaps. ”Harry… Please don’t forget what we—”

 

”I haven’t”, Harry says quickly. ”I don’t care about winning, honestly!”

 

Having been reassured that Harry won’t make a habit of diving head-first into the challenges, Remus relaxes a little more and the smile on his face softens.

 

”You were brilliant”, he admits quietly. ”I’m extremely proud of you… I’m just, also, extremely anxious…”

 

Harry smiles wryly, ”I know…”

 

He hugs both his dads again and then waves good bye to them as Snape escorts him back to the tent, where the other three champions are waiting. After a while, Bagman comes bouncing into the tent, looking as excited as he’d done the first time Harry met him at the Quidditch World Cup, if not more so. 

 

”Well done, _all_ of you!” he exclaims, giving Harry a quick wink. ”Now, you’ll have a nice long break before your next task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — _but…_ we’ll give you something to think about in the meantime! If you look at the golden eggs you’re all holding you’ll see there’s a clutch at the top… that’s right… you need to open your egg and solve the clue that’s inside, that will tell you what the second task is — and you really need to know ahead of time this time, because otherwise you won’t stand a chance! — All clear? Okay, off you go then!”

 

Draco is waiting outside the tent and glances furtively at Diggory as he walks past, his pale cheeks turning slightly pink when the older boy gives him a smile. He quickly focuses on Harry instead, though and turns to leave but immediately stops again when Harry hangs back and waits for the others to go on ahead. Draco looks over his shoulder at the retreating backs of the other champions, then turns back to Harry and gives him a questioning look. 

 

Harry peers up at Draco through his lashes, then smiles thinly when understanding flares in the blonde’s grey eyes… He feels his cheeks heat up, but continues to smile as he steps closer to the other boy. There's an almost apprehensive look in his eyes and he raises an eyebrow expectantly, but a cool smirk is ghosting over his face and Harry knows he's intrigued...

 

”You know…” he murmurs, bending to put the golden egg down before closing the space between himself and Draco. ”I just fought a dragon… Some would find that impressive… Sexy, even…”

 

”Really…” Draco says drily, then looks away with a sniff. ”Some are easily impressed, then…”

 

Harry narrows his eyes him. The blonde’s eyes flit back to meet his and his smirk twitches. 

 

”Bastard…” Harry mutters. 

 

Then with Seeker speed, he grabs the back of Draco’s head and slams their mouths together. He swallows the startled gasp from the other boy as it slips out, then licks his mouth open forcefully and start lapping up all the other little noises — needy, keening whimpers and hungry, desperate moans — as they escape the boy’s throat, laps them up and swallows them down like they’re the most delicious treats he’s ever had… Draco’s fingers are in his hair again, fisting it desperately and pulling on it as he returns the kiss with vigour. 

 

Harry trails his hands down the other boy’s sides, fisting the material of his robes and pulling him closer —

 

 _Pop!_  

 

A sudden light flashes over them and Harry and Draco spring apart. 

 

Wheeling around they see Rita Skeeter in her acid-green robes, her blood red lips stretched wide and her beady blue eyes narrowed. Next to her, the bored-looking photographer lowers his camera, the blown lightbulb of the flash smoking slightly. Except, he doesn’t look so bored this time, Harry notices with a sinking feeling. 

 

”How quaint…” Ms Skeeter says in a sugary voice. ”The Boy Hero comes out of battle and is greeted by his secret lover… and quite enthusiastically too, I might add… thanks for that! Any comments to go with the pretty picture?”

 

”You’re not allowed to talk to me”, Harry bites out. ”Dumbledore—”

 

”No matter”, Ms Skeeter simpers, turning to smile at her photographer. ”I think we got the most important part, didn’t we?”

 

The man gives her sly smile and nods. 

 

”Then I believe we need to get back to the office… We have a deadline, after all”, she adds with a hard glint in her eyes, although her smile never wavers. 

 

”I hate that woman…” Harry hisses as the two reporters walk away. 

 

He turns to Draco, expecting to see his outrage mirrored in the other boy’s face, but Draco’s face is completely shuttered… The only sign that anything is wrong at all, is that all blood seems to have drained from his face, leaving it chalk white, almost ashen… Harry frowns in concern and puts a gentle hand on top of his shoulder. 

 

Draco slowly takes a step back from him, his shoulder slipping out from underneath Harry’s palm almost as an after-thought. 

 

”Draco?”

 

The blonde’s eyes flicker over to meet Harry’s, but he might as well have them screwed shut for all the connection Harry feels with him; there is not a trace of emotion inside the steel grey eyes, and Harry feels his chest tighten as he stares into them. 

 

”Draco… Talk to me…”

 

”We should go back to the castle”, the other boy says, his voice just as devoid of emotion as the rest of him.

 

He turns swiftly and begins to walk across the lawn. Harry grabs the golden egg from the ground and hurries after him. He tries to grab his hand, but Draco immediately snatches it back and stuffs it inside his pocket. He doesn’t say anything else, or look at Harry. He just keeps staring straight ahead and walks at a steady pace until they reach the Slytherin Common Room. 

 

As soon as they enter, they’re met with a roar of cheers and yells from the other Slytherins. Harry blinks in shock at the green and silver balloons covering the ceiling and the massive banners with his name on stretching from wall to wall. 

 

Seamus comes bounding over to him, grinning manically from ear to ear. He clutches his shoulder and thrusts a glass in his face that smells suspisciously like firewhiskey when Harry gets a whiff of it, before recoiling. 

 

Blaise and Theodore appear on either side of him, babbling excitedly and clapping him on the back. Harry tries to look for Draco, but he seems to have been swallowed up by the sea of bodies now thronging around Harry, because he can’t see any blonde anywhere. 

 

He swallows a sigh, thinking perhaps it’s for the best if he gives the other boy some space and lets him cool off… They can talk about it in the morning… 

 

” _Drink up!_ ” Seamus insists almost aggressively and thrusts the glass of firewhiskey into his hand, before slinging his arm around his neck and letting out a victorious crow. 

 

”The Slytherin Champion!” he cries at the top of his voice. 

 

”THE SLYTHERIN CHAMPION!” the rest of the students echo enthusiastically.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to psychotriton for reminding me about the badges! <3


	25. Noises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the emotional rollercoaster continues... in the aftermath of the First Task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So amidst the fluff and the angst, there's a little bit of smutty stuff happening in this chapter. Be warned.

As the party rages on in the Slytherin Common Room, Harry seats himself on one of the sofas in front of the fire and tries to focus on the people around him instead of the one person missing from the celebrations. But even with a rather tipsy Blaise lounging on the floor in front of him and leaning back against his leg, and a horklump drunk Seamus draped heavily over his side, Harry finds his mind wandering to Draco alone in the dorm… Even when Seamus gives him a blow-by-blow account of the other champions’ dealings with their dragons, in a steadily slurring voice, Harry keeps glancing over to the passageway leading to the boys’ dorms, until his attention is snatched once more by a reeking, hot breath tickling his ear…

 

Seamus has just finished telling Harry about Diggory’s head catching fire, when Blaise picks up the golden egg and weighs it idly in one hand and mumbling about it being heavy. Seamus blinks slowly, losing his train of thought… 

 

”Hey, you should open it, Harry…” Blaise says, twisting around to face him. 

 

”Now?” Harry says uncertainly. 

 

He won’t tell his friends, but he feels reluctant to open the egg without Draco being there to see it. _It shouldn’t matter,_ he tells himself. _Because it’s not a big deal, it’s just a clue for the next Task and I’m not even supposed to care about the Tournament…_ But no matter many times he reminds himself of that, it still _feels_ like a big deal — and he wants Draco to share it with him. 

 

”Go on, open it —!” someone says, and a chorus of voices erupts adding their agreement. 

 

”All right”, Harry mutters and takes the egg from Blaise. 

 

Pushing his fingertips under the latch on top of the egg, Harry snaps it open. The egg immediately opens into two hollow halves, revealing nothing but empty space inside and despite this a deafening wailing noise rings out in the expectant silence, startling Harry so much that he nearly drops the egg on Blaise’s head. 

 

”SHUT IT—!” someone shrieks. 

 

Harry quickly smashes the two halves together again and fumbles with the latch. The Common Room falls silent once more, everyone exchanging looks of bafflement and intrigue. 

 

”What _was_ that?” Blaise says, removing his hands from his ears.

 

” _A banshee!_ ” Seamus exclaims, his half-lidded eyes popping dramatically. ”Harry, maybe _tha’ss_ wha’ yeh’ve gotta face next—?”

 

”It wasn’t a banshee”, Blaise says, haughtily.

 

”How do _you_ know?” Seamus demands, trying to focus on the other boy. 

 

”Did it kill us all?” Blaise counters sharply. 

 

Seamus frowns, clearly struggling to wrap his mind around the question. After a moment, he gives up and reaches for the half-empty firewhiskey bottle on the floor at his feet instead. Harry grabs it from him however, thinking the boy has had enough to drink for one night… He agrees with Blaise. Not that he would put it past the organisers of the Triwizard Tournament to make them face a banshee, but he doesn’t think that’s what a banshee sounds like… 

 

The wail definitely had a screechy quality to it, but there was something about it that sounded distorted as well, like the noise had been filtered through water somehow… and whenever his daddy told him stories about banshees, he always got the feeling theirs was more of a tinny shriek, and more high-pitched… of course, no-one can no for sure what a banshee sounds like and live to tell the tale, so for all Harry knows _that’s_ exactly what a banshee _does_ sound like… 

 

The next morning, he wakes up in a cold sweat, sure he’d dreamed the whole thing and that the First Task is still ahead of him. But then he puts his glasses on and spots the tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail curled up asleep on his nightstand… Heaving a great sigh of relief, Harry chuckles to himself. He really _did_ get past the dragon and snatch the golden egg! And not only that, he tied with Viktor Krum for first place and the next Task is three whole months away!

 

Feeling particularly pleased with life, Harry jumps out of bed and starts changing out of his pyjamas, eager to get to the Great Hall now that he knows he won’t be assaulted on the way there or have to endure glares and taunts by the other Hogwarts students while he eats his breakfast.

 

Draco’s bed is empty and made up, so he figures the other boy is either having a bath or a shower… He hears a low groan coming inside the hangings on Seamus’ bed and smiles wryly as he pictures the boy clutching his head, remembering the amount of firewhiskey he had to drink the night before. 

 

Glancing over at the other beds in the dorm, he can see that the rest of the boys are still asleep as well… Draco is the only one not in his bed, even though it’s already late judging by the torches (that are magicked to burn a bright limegreen in daytime and a dark emerald at night, since the dungeons are below ground and they don’t get any natural light in the dorms, except for the dim underwater light from the lake in the middle of the day.) But then he was the only one of them who went to bed early the night before as well. 

 

Although, even if he’d stayed up and celebrated with them and was nursing a hangover because of it, Harry knows the other boy would still be up by now. Draco is always an early riser and never late for anything… 

 

 _So where is he? Could he have gone_ _upstairs without waiting for me_ , Harry wonders with a frown. 

 

Then he remembers Rita Skeeter and her photographer catching him and Draco kissing… His stomach flips as her sugary voices echoes in his head:

 

_The Boy Hero comes out of battle and is greeted by his lover… Any comments to go with the pretty picture?_

 

_No matter, we got the most important part… Now, we have a DEADLINE —_

 

And he remembers Draco’s shuttered eyes, staring coldly back at him…

 

 _It’s okay, I can fix it,_ Harry thinks numbly and steps into his boots before hurrying out of the dorm. 

 

He meets a couple of girls in the Common Room who both grin at him and tell him again what an amazing job he did the day before. He thanks them automatically, but doesn’t stop or slow down. As soon as he reaches the end of the dungeon corridor, he takes the stairs up to the ground floor two at a time, desperate to get to the Great Hall. 

 

It would appear at least half the students of Slytherin house has decided to sleep in like the boys in Harry’s dorm, the Slytherin table dented with empty seats and Draco, sitting on his own at the end of the long table, one of few students above Third Year to have made it to breakfast. Harry immediately makes a beeline for him and takes the seat next to him. 

 

The blonde gives him a sidelong look, but doesn’t say anything. Harry swallows a sigh and reaches for the toast, wondering tiredly how long it will take the blonde to get over this…

 

A hundred owls swoop down from the ceiling suddenly, signalling the delivery of the mail and one of the _Daily Prophet_ ’s official delivery owls lands on top of the toast rack, the rolled up copy of the _Prophet_ tumbling out of its beak and knocking over the salt shaker before rolling towards Draco’s hand. 

 

The blonde quickly stuffs a Knut into the bird’s money bag and then grabs the paper. Harry can tell his hands are trembling slightly, the only evidence of his emotions since his face is still as shuttered as the night before, and it’s with a sinking sense of foreboding that Harry watches him pick at the knot tying the paper together. 

 

Finally the string comes loose and Draco shakes the paper out and lies it flat on the table between Harry and himself. Neither of them speak, just stare in mute horror at the front page. 

 

Harry feels the familiar prickle of being watched long before the whispers start, so he knows the paper has made its rounds around the Great Hall, the few students who, like Draco, actually prescribe to the _Daily Prophet_ having passed it on to those who don’t, until everyone in the Hall has seen the photograph and it’s accompanying headline, _PUPPY LOVE?_

 

He peers up into Draco’s face, trying to determine the damage but the other boy’s face is still unreadable. 

 

Suddenly Bertram, Draco’s owl, swoops down and lands deftly on top of the _Prophet_ , its talons digging tiny holes in the faces of Harry and Draco in the photograph before they spring apart, scowling furiously and rubbing at their faces. 

 

”Oh no…” Draco says faintly, staring at the small roll of parchment with the Malfoy seal, attached to the owl’s outstretched leg. 

 

”At least it’s not a Howler…” Harry murmurs. 

 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

 

With trembling fingers, he unties the roll of parchment from Bertram’s leg and the owl immediately takes flight again. Draco breaks the seal carefully and unrolls the parchment. Craning his neck, Harry peeks down at the short message: 

 

 

_”Draco,_

 

_I am disgusted with you! The front page of THE DAILY PROPHET — What were you THINKING?_

 

_If you are incapable of even the most basic discretion, then your father will undoubtedly rethink his position on your association with Harry. And if that happens, rest assured that I shan’t be able to sway him again.”_

 

 

It’s not signed. But it really doesn’t need to be. 

 

Although, Harry can’t help but to feel the lack of a signature just makes the letter colder, knowing neither of his dads would ever write to him without adding a loving sentiment at the end or signing with a _”Yours always”_ or _”With love”,_ even if they were writing to tell him off. He wonders if Narcissa signs the letters to her only son with a similar sentiment normally, or if all her correspondence is this cold… and what’s worse… 

 

Looking into Draco’s face thoughtfully, Harry tries to read the boy’s mood, but just like the day before Draco’s face is shuttered. He gently rolls the parchment up again and sticks it into his pocket, before standing up slowly. 

 

”Draco —” Harry says, but the blonde holds up his hand to silence him. 

 

”I… I need to be alone…” he says quietly. 

 

Then without having even looked at Harry once, he makes his way out of the Great Hall swiftly. 

 

Harry is aware of all the students and teachers watching him in varying degrees of interest, but he ignores them all and pulls the _Prophet_ towards him. The affronted looks on his and Draco’s faces in the photograph, as the magicked subjects keep scrubbing at their punctured faces surlishly, would have made him smile at any other time. 

 

As it is, he merely glances at them briefly before turning to page two and starts skimming the article. 

 

It’s even worse than he’d feared. 

 

Not only does Ms Skeeter go into great detail when describing Harry’s and Draco’s intimate embrace, she also takes a lot of liberties in speculating about their feelings for each other and then goes on to weave in the werewolf angle, making a pun out of _puppy love or cub lust_ , hinting that the relationship between Harry and his daddy is perversely codependent and Harry’s decision to _seduce another boy_ is just another subconscious tactic in affirming his bond with his adoptive parent; by stepping in his _paw prints_ … 

 

She’s even got a medi-witch to go on record, speculating about the emotional and psychological impact being raised by a werewolf might have… 

 

Harry folds the paper together roughly and is just climbing to his feet when Hedwig comes sailing down from the ceiling. She lands gracefully on top of his shoulder and he pets her head, before plucking the small roll of parchment from her beak. 

 

It’s not sealed together or even tied up with a string, so he knows whoever sent it must have been in a hurry… Unrolling the parchment, he immediately recognises his daddy’s handwriting and understands why. 

 

_”Harry,_

 

_Your dad and I are here for you, if you need to talk._

_And we love you more than anything. Never forget that._

 

_Yours always,_

_Your daddy”_

 

Just as soon as the anger flared up inside Harry, it simmers down again. Taking a deep breath, he reads the short message from his daddy once more, before rolling it up gently and putting it in his pocket. 

 

He gives Draco space for the rest of the day, concentrating on his school work and talking to his friends. The other boys, especially Blaise, keep throwing worried looks in Draco’s direction whenever the boy brushes past them to select a seat some way away from them. 

 

Harry knows what they’re thinking — it’s Third Year all over again — but he tells himself it’s _nothing_ like that, because _this_ is only temporary; Draco just needs to cool down and then things will be back to normal. 

 

Narcissa didn’t say he couldn’t be with Harry anymore. She just warned him that they need to be more discrete — _so that’s what we’ll have to do,_ Harry thinks brazingly. _As long as that awful Skeeter woman stays away, we won’t have any problem; everything will be fine!_

 

It’s this thought (or rather mantra) that keeps Harry going throughout the day. 

 

Later that evening he is playing Exploding Snap with Seamus in the Common Room and keeping a discrete eye on Draco through the corner of his eye; the blonde is curled up on one end of the loveseat in front of the fire, sketching in a new drawing book and sharing a companionable silence with Blaise, who is idly flicking through a tome, sprawled out in the other end of the small sofa. 

 

Finally, Draco snaps his drawing book shut and unfolds his limbs. Harry swallows discretely and quickly tears his gaze away as the boy stands up and stretches his arms above his head, revealing a strip of pale skin as his jumper rides up. 

 

Seamus gives Harry a knowing leer, but it is soon blasted off his face, quite literally, as the two Giant Squid cards on top of the pile suddenly explode in his face. Harry smirks at him, about to make a quip about just desserts but is instantly distracted as Draco brushes past him, heading towards the dorm. 

 

”I win?” Seamus says knowingly.

 

”Yeah, you win”, Harry mumbles, throwing his remaining cards on the table and getting to his feet.

 

”You have half an hour”, Blaise calls after him. ”Then I’m going to bed. I’m knackered.”

 

”Fine”, Harry says and gives him a dismissive wave. 

 

Draco is already in his pyjamas when Harry enters the dorm. He looks up and meets Harry’s eyes as if he’d been expecting him and Harry thinks he probably was… He climbs onto the boy’s four-poster bed and sits cross-legged at the foot of it, leaning back against one of the posts as he waits for the other boy to speak. 

 

Draco slouches down on the bed as well, curling up against the headboard and picking at the slightly frayed cuff of his pyjama top. After a moment’s tense silence, he peers up at Harry through the thin curtain of his bangs, looking small and lost… _and unsure of what to say,_ Harry thinks and sighs. 

 

”How do you feel?” he asks him softly. 

 

”Not great…” Draco says immediately. ”What about you?”

 

”Yeah, not great… That article was…” Harry just shakes his head. ”She’s absolutely evil.”

 

”Was it that bad?” Draco asks with a grimace. 

 

”Yeah, it was… I mean, she didn’t say much about you, so don’t worry about that… but the stuff she wrote about me and… and… it’s just vile.”

 

”She wrote about Remus again?” Draco asks, with a hint of surprise and Harry nods. ”Do you still have the paper? Can I read it?”

 

”No, I left it in the Great Hall… sorry—”

 

”Doesn’t matter”, Draco says and shakes his head dismissively, then shudders and hugs himself. ”Fuck, it’s cold… I hate winter!”

 

The blonde looks like he wants to say something else, but then decides not to. Instead he crawls under the covers and curls up on his side. 

 

Taking the hint, Harry climbs off the bed and walks around it to his own. He grabs his bunched up pyjama bottoms from the floor and fingers them nervously, glancing over at the tuft of blonde hair sticking up from under the covers on the other bed. 

 

”Draco…” Harry says carefully. ”Sorry, I’ll let you sleep, but… are we okay?”

 

For a couple of seconds, the room remains silent. But then the covers peel back enough to reveal a couple of grey eyes peeking up at him and Harry releases his breath around a hesitant smile. 

 

”Yeah…” a muffled voice says slowly, sounding every bit as unsure as the eyes look. 

 

”Yeah?” Harry says. ”I mean, I know _I’m_ not okay what with that article and everything and you’re probably not either, but if things are at least okay between _us_ , then I’d feel a lot better about everything else… and I know we’ll have to be more careful from now on — though I’m sure Rita Skeeter won’t be able to come inside the Hogwarts grounds again — still — I know — we’ll be really really… _really_ … careful, okay?” 

 

The grey eyes twinkle with amusement, and Harry relaxes a little and smiles ruefully.

 

”Yeah, okay”, the muffled voice says and this time it sounds like Draco means it. 

 

*

 

Bundled up in their green and silver scarves, Harry and the rest of the Slytherin Fourth Years make their way down to Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures. As they pass the lake, Harry glances over at the Durmstrang ship, slung from side to side by the force of the December wind, its black sails billowing against the dark grey sky, and feels grateful for the thick stone walls of Hogwarts and the many fires inside… 

 

As always, the Gryffindors are already assembled in front of Hagrid when the Slytherins arrive, almost as if they were genuinely looking forward to the lesson, which Harry knows can’t be true — because no-one who’s spent any amount of time with a Blast-Ended Skrewt could possibly want to repeat the experience — with the rare exception of Hagrid himself, unfortunately for students… 

 

There are only ten Blast-Ended Skrewts left, since their eagerness to kill each other hasn’t been squashed out of them, but ten is still plenty now that they’re almost six foot long and more temperamental than ever… Harry throws a dejected glance at the large wooden boxes that Hagrid has brought out, all lined with pillows and blankets, dreading the coming lesson…

 

”I’m not sure whether they hibernate or not”, Hagrid explains to them, his excited smile clearly visible in his bushy beard. ”So I thought we’d try an’ settle ’em down in these boxes ter see if they fancy a kip!”

 

The class divides into ten small groups, each grabbing a Skrewt and dumping it inside one of the boxes before nailing the lid on. But the Skrewts, as it turns out, do _not_ fancy a kip… nor do they fancy getting nailed inside pillow-lined caskets, because as soon as the lids have come on, all ten of the Skrewts blast the boxes apart and charge the students furiously. 

 

Draco lets out a high-pitched scream as one particularly enraged Skrewt runs at him with its trembling stinger raised and throws a smouldering plank at it before legging it out of the pumpkin patch and diving into Hagrid’s hut through the back door. Harry and the other Slytherins, as well as a couple of Gryffindor girls, hurry after him and together they barricade the door. 

 

”Bloody Hell”, Blaise gasps. 

 

” _How is this a lesson?_ ” Draco demands in a shrill voice, his eyes wild with alarm as he cautiously approaches the window to check if the coast is clear. ”I mean _how_? Can someone please explain it to me? What are we learning?” 

 

Harry just shakes his head, gazing out the window to see a panicked Hagrid hurry back and forth inside the pumpkin patch, waving his massive arms to get the stung and burned students to calm down, even as the rampaging Skrewts are attacking them.

 

”It’s a _joke!”_ , Draco continues vehemently. _”_ EXCEPT IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY!”

 

When Hagrid and the remaining Gryffindors have managed to tie up nine of the ten Skrewts, the last one advances on Ron as the boy keeps shooting sparks at it. Finally it’s got the redhead cornered against the wall of Hagrid’s hut, just under the window where Harry and Draco are standing. Looking at the clasp in the middle of the window, Harry considers opening it so that the boy can climb through, but before he’s had a chance to Hagrid has thrown himself on top of the Skrewt… It shoots a blast of fire out of its end, which narrowly misses Lavender Brown and disintegrates a few pumpkin plants behind her. 

 

Hagrid manages to tie a rope around the Skrewts stinger, but nearly gets stung as something just outside the garden catches his attention and distracts him. 

 

Edging along the window, Harry manages to get a glimpse of a familiar mop of golden blonde hair and a pair of grinning blood red lips.

 

”What is _she_ doing here?” Harry hisses furiously. 

 

Rita Skeeter is leaning casually against the fence, watching the chaos inside the enclosure with rapt eyes and a never-wavering smile. For once, she isn’t decked out in acid green, but wearing a magenta cloak trimmed with purple fur but her crocodile-skin handbag is dangling from one of her arms and her long, sharp nails are painted purple.

 

Hagrid clambers off the slightly flattened Skrewt and starts tugging it towards the others, throwing Ms Skeeter a suspiscious look over his shoulder as he speaks. Whatever he said, it doesn’t faze the reporter one bit — but then again, Harry is starting to wonder if anything ever could — her keen eyes flit over the burns and cuts on the Gryffindor students still standing outside, and Harry imagines he can see the article writing itself in the intense glint of the woman’s pale blue eyes, as clearly as if her Quick-Quote Quill was in perched on a piece of parchment next to her. 

 

With feign interest written all over her immaculately made up face, Ms Skeeter nods eagerly as Hagrid continues to talk, his enthusiasm from earlier returning full force, and Harry _just knows_ Ms Skeeter has charmed him by asking about the Skrewts. 

 

”Evil cow…” he mutters. 

 

”Better Hagrid than us”, Draco says quietly, gazing coldly at the gamekeeper. ”If we’re lucky, he’ll even have to get rid of the blasted Skrewts. Win-win.”

 

”I suppose…” 

 

With the last of the Skrewts secured, Harry and the others walk out of the hut again. He feels Rita Skeeter’s eyes zoom in on him immediately, but pretends not to have noticed. 

 

”Oh, _you’re_ here as well, Harry!” she exclaims, looking positively delighted. 

 

”Yes”, Harry says stonily.

 

”And do you like Care Of Magical Creatures? Well, how could you _not,_ with such — er — fascinating creatures as these Bang-Ended Scoots”, she says tittering. 

 

”Blast-Ended Skrewts!” Hagrid quickly corrects, but the reporter doesn’t seem to have heard him. 

 

She keeps gazing at Harry appraisingly, waiting for him to speak. But Harry says nothing. 

 

”You’re not allowed to talk to him”, Blaise says suddenly. 

 

Harry turns to see him gaze coolly at Ms Skeeter, his eyebrow raised in an unimpressed arch. He’s also angled his body discretely to shield Draco from her view, Harry notices and feels a surge of affection for his friend — but he schools his face into a neutral mask, not wanting to give Ms Skeeter any more fodder. 

 

”And you are?” Ms Skeeter asks pleasantly and although her smile is frozen in place, it feels less and less like a smile and more like a predatory snarl. 

 

”Never you mind…” Blaise retorts. 

 

The bell signalling the end of the lesson rings up at the castle and they all trudge out of the pumpkin patch, eager to get away. 

 

”Well, goodbye, Harry!” Ms Skeeter calls after him, and just before they get out of earshot, Harry hears her tell Hagrid she’ll see him in Friday night. 

 

”He’s giving her an interview”, he mutters. ”How thick can you _get!_ ”

 

”Better him than us”, Draco says again. 

 

With twenty minutes left of the Potions lesson, Professor Snape intructs them all to leave their anti-dotes to simmer while they clear away everything else and then to sit down quietly. Exchanging curious looks, the students hurry to comply and then swiftly take their seats, waiting for their Head of House to speak. 

 

”The Yule Ball is approaching”, he informs them, his lip curling in disgust. ”It’s a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and it is obligatory for fourth-years and above to attend—”

 

A hushed but distinct buzz of excited whispers erupts amongst the students, but Professor Snape quells them all with a stony look. Pansy and Daphne immediately muffle their giggles behind their hands.

 

”The Yule Ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day and finish sharply at midnight. It will take place inside the Great Hall and dress robes. must. be. worn… _Now_ … as students of Slytherin House, I expect each and every one of you to conduct yourself with _poise…_ and adhere to the decorum expected of you as representatives of Hogwarts and the noble house of Salazar Slytherin… _is that understood?_ ”

 

Every nods eagerly. 

 

”Furthermore, if any beverage stronger than butterbeer should find its way to the Great Hall during the festivities…” Snape adds and lets his dark eyes linger on Seamus, who gulps. ”I shall be _most displeased._ ”

 

They all nod again, Seamus more violently than any of them and Snape finally lets his gaze flicker away from him again, finding Harry instead just as the bell rings.

 

”Harry, a word…”

 

”I’ll see you in the Common Room”, Harry tells the others, then walks up to the front of the class. 

 

Professor Snape’s glare ushers the rest of the class out of the classroom at record speed and as soon as they’re alone, he turns to face Harry with a dour frown that is somewhat mitigated when he shakes his hair out of his face. Harry quickly presses his lips together to hide his ausement. 

 

”I need to tell you that you and your partner —”

 

”Partner—?”

 

” _Yes_ ”, Snape hisses, his eyes narrowing in irritation. 

 

”Sorry, Sir…” Harry mumbles.

 

” _As_ I was saying… You and your partner, along with the other champions and their partners, will need to open the Ball by performing the first dance of the evening—”

 

” _Dance?_ ” Harry repeats in dismay. ”But I don’t dance… _Sir!_ ”

 

”It is tradition”, Snape says in a clipped tone. 

 

”But I don’t even know _how_ to dance!”

 

” _Figure it out_ ”, Snape more or less snarls, looking extremely uncomfortable with the whole subject. ”It’s only one dance, then you may retire for the evening for all I care! For goodness’ sake, it’s not the end of the world… Besides, I’m sure Draco can teach you and you have plenty of time to practise.”

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mumbles sullenly. 

 

”Good… I’ll see you at dinner. Dismissed.”

 

Sitting slumped over his star chart in Divination, Harry lets his mind wander, picturing himself and Draco in the middle of a dance floor with the entire school standing in a wide circle around them… laughing and pointing at him as he tries to move to the music and ends up stepping on Draco’s toes… 

 

Sighing, Harry rubs his fingers over the scar on his forehead. As always the heavy aroma in the Divination classroom is getting to his head and besides the dull throbbing behind his eyes, a stinging sensation is shooting through his forehead, right where his scar is. 

 

Draco’s knee knocks against his suddenly and Harry sits up instantly. Squinting at Professor Trelawny who is now towering over him and Draco, Harry attempts to look intrigued by whatever prediction must have just made, but as his headache is getting worse he only ends up wincing up at her. 

 

Apparently, the reaction is appropriate enough because Professor Trelawny nods importantly at the rest of the class, pointing a trembling finger at Harry. 

 

” _Yes_ …” she whispers in her mistiest voice. ”Mr Potter knows…”

 

Harry shoots Draco a look, silently asking him for help but the blonde just covers his smile with a hand and looks away. 

 

”He understands the burden of interpreting the signs… of Seeing the _Truth_ , however ugly…” 

 

Harry discretely turns his face and makes eyes at Seamus and Blaise instead, but they’re just as unhelpful as Draco and equally amused it would seem. 

 

”DEATH”, Professor Trelawny exclaims dramatically. 

 

 _Oh, that,_ Harry thinks and relaxes back in his armchair. 

 

”It comes ever closer”, Trelawny continues in a hoarse whisper. ”It circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower… ever lower over the castle…”

 

She places one of her spindly hands on top of Harry’s shoulder, her many bracelets jingling as she gives it a small shake. He schools his face into his most serious mask and looks up at her. She clutches her chest with her free hand and scrunches up her face as though in deep pain. 

 

”It is _unfortunate_ ”, she says thickly. ”So young… whole life ahead of him…”

 

”Ah well…” Harry mumbles awkwardly. 

 

” _So brave_ ”, Trelawny gasps. 

 

As soon as they’ve all climbed down the step ladder at the end of class, Harry’s friends burst out laughing hysterically. He gives them a half-hearted glare, but now that he’s finally out of that horrible classroom and can breathe fresh air again, he can’t really bring himself to stay annoyed. 

 

*

 

Not surprisingly, every student in Fourth Year and above put their names down to stay at Hogwarts during Christmas so that they can go to the Yule Ball. Harry signs up as well, having already made plans with his dads to come home and celebrate a late Christmas with them on Boxing Day instead. 

 

However, as excited as he is for the upcoming Ball, the prospect of making a fool of himself in front of the entire school — or in fact, three schools — puts quite the damper on the whole thing and he’d really like to go just one day where he didn’t have to worry about it. 

 

Unfortunately, he is constently reminded of the ball because wherever he goes he seems to be surrounded by people _obsessed_ with it. Girls in particular are giggling and laughing hysterically left right and centre while blushing and making eyes at boys they (presumably) find cute, or they’re whispering furiously with each other or discussing in great detail and with excessive enthusiasm what they plan on wearing. Harry hadn’t realised just how many girls go to Hogwarts before now. It suddenly seems to be a disproportionate amount…

 

Draco, much to Harry’s disbelief, seems more than happy to delve into discussions about dress robes and colour schemes with Pansy and Daphne. Harry just stares at the three of them as they sit huddled together in the Common Room, heads close and eyes bright with excitement. After a while, Harry just shakes his head and leaves them to it. Walking across the room he challenges Seamus to a game of Exploding Snap instead.

 

They’re halfway through the game when Blaise saunters into the Common Room, looking particularly smug as he sprawls out on the rug in front of their table.

 

”What dirt have you got and on whom?” Seamus demands.

 

”Oh, no dirt…” Blaise says, studying his immaculate nails idly. ”Just the latest gossip about the Gryffindorks…”

 

”Yeah, who?” Harry asks curiously. 

 

”One of your ones, actually”, Blaise says with a smirk. ”Weasley…”

 

”Ron?” Harry says. ”What about him?”

 

”Well…” Blaise says drily, his smirk turning into a proper smile. ”I just saw him ask Fleur Delacour to the Ball—”

 

” _What?_ ” Seamus gasps and lets out a guffaw. ”He never did!”

 

”I swear… It was one of those surreal moments when time seems to just freeze…” Blaise snickers. ”She just stared at him like he was a house-elf who’d just shat in her tea, she didn’t even say anything. I almost felt for the bloke…”

 

”What did Ron do?” Harry says in amazement. 

 

”He turned into a tomato, as usual, and then he just legged it out of there!”

 

Blaise and Seamus burst into a peel of laughter, and Harry hesitantly joins in. He feels bad for Ron, but what was he thinking asking Fleur to the ball? Also, as awful as the Gryffindor must have felt, to just run away, that’s just too funny…

 

”What’s so funny?” Pansy calls from the other side of the Common Room. 

 

”Ron Weasley!” Blaise calls back. 

 

”Hardly”, the girl scoffs and Harry can tell Draco and Daphne mutter their agreement. 

 

”No?” Blaise says, smiling. ”What if I told you he just went up to Fleur Delacour in the Entrance Hall and asked her to the Yule Ball?”

 

”He didn’t—!” Daphne squeals. 

 

”And when she just stared at him, he ran away!” Blaise adds. 

 

Several people in the Common Room laugh, including Draco — now that it’s clear everyone’s laughing _at_ Ron and not _with_ him, Harry thinks wryly. But seeing such an open and carefree expression on the blonde’s face for once, Harry can’t help but to smile fondly. Also, those grey eyes really are beautiful when they’re shining like that —

 

Suddenly said eyes flicker over to lock with Harry’s and for a moment he experiences the oddest sensation; it’s like someone has put both of their hands against his mid-section and forcefully pressed all the air out of his body. 

 

Draco’s grin softens, but his eyes continue to shine. Harry swallows and gives him a twitchy smile back, still getting his breathing back under control and not really getting the hang of it again until Draco tears his eyes away and turns back to Pansy and Daphne. 

 

”You. are. such. a. _sap_ …” Blaise mutters. 

 

”What?” Harry says distractedly, because Draco has just stood up and is now making his way over. 

 

”Nothing”, the other boy mutters. 

 

But Harry isn’t even listening anymore, because Draco has stopped in front of the sofa where he and Seamus are sitting and is smirking down at him like they share a secret that no-one else can know — and maybe they do, but whatever it is, Harry can’t possibly think of it now because his brain has gone all funny…

 

”So do you want to see that book I told you about?” Draco says. 

 

Harry blinks stupidly, shaking his head slightly to get his brain to work but all it does is make Draco’s smirk widen. 

 

”Book?” he says dumbly. 

 

”Yeah, we talked about it the other day”, Draco says, tilting his head slightly. ”It’s in the dorm, if you want to have a look…”

 

”Okay”, Harry says. 

 

He’s trying to remember a conversation about a book but drawing a complete blank. Seamus is sniggering next to him and Blaise is muttering again, but Harry can’t let himself get distracted. Draco has forgone the girly discussions about dress robes to come and talk to him about some book, and if Harry doesn’t figure out what book he’s talking about, Draco will most likely get annoyed with him and go back to the girls… _and he’ll stop smiling… and he’ll stop looking at me like that…_

 

”Yeah, I remember”, he says quickly and hopes it sounds convincing.

 

”For Merlin’s sake”, Blaise says. ”He wants you to go to the dorm with him!”

 

”What?” Harry turns to the other boy with a frown. 

 

Seamus is now laughing so hard he’s lying sideways on the sofa, clutching his belly. 

 

”Come on…” Draco chuckles and inclines his head towards the passage leading to the boys’ dormitories. 

 

Harry scrambles to his feet quickly, nearly tripping over Blaise’s foot in his hurry to follow Draco to the dorm. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Draco is smirking at him again.

 

”What’s… going on?” Harry asks as carelessly as his voice will allow. 

 

Draco shrugs slowly, tilting his head as he studies him silently for a moment before he murmurs, ”There’s just so many people everywhere…”

 

”Er, yeah… I guess…”

 

”Harry…” Draco smiles in amusement. ”There’s no book — _relax!_ ”

 

”Oh… Right…” Harry mumbles, feeling his cheeks flush. 

 

Draco just shakes his head at him and still chuckling fondly, he steps right into his space. Harry holds his breath as their bodies gently press together, sure the other boy must feel the pounding of his heart through his chest… then spindly fingers nestle into his hair and soft lips brush against his own… and as if he’s suddenly been released from a Body-Binding Spell, Harry springs to life; exhaling sharply through his nose, he grabs Draco’s head and kisses him deeply. 

 

He feels the other boy’s body tremble against his as he trails his hands down his sides and locks his arms around his waist. Draco clutches his shoulders and moans into his mouth. 

 

Then without breaking the kiss, he starts walking Harry backwards towards his bed. As soon as Harry feels the back of his thighs bump against the mattrass, he sits down and begins to scramble up towards the headboard, pulling Draco with him. 

 

Desperate to touch, Harry drags his hands over the other boy’s body but he can barely make out his shape through all the layers he’s wearing — and speaking of which, his own clothes are stifling hot all of a sudden… He wants nothing more than to just tear them off — Well, he might possibly want to tear Draco’s off more — 

 

Wrenching out of their lip-lock and gasping for air, the blonde pins Harry with his eyes. They’re shining again, Harry notices. But the pupils are blown so wide there’s barely any silver visible anyway.

 

”Are we… doing this?” he says breathlessly.

 

 _Doing what,_ Harry doesn’t say — because it really doesn’t matter what the answer is; whatever Draco wants to do, Harry’s answer is still YES! — so he just nods eagerly.

 

Scrambling up to sitting they push each other’s robes off, hands trembling with excitement and nervousness. Grabbing the hem of Draco’s jumper, Harry wrenches it up his body and pulls it over his head, chuckling as he gets to witness his blonde hair stand on end for the first time ever… As if reading his mind, Draco quickly reaches up with both hands and begins to flatten it again, but Harry grabs his hands and gently guides them down again. 

 

”Don’t”, he croaks. ”It’s sexy…”

 

Draco sniffs, but there’s a glint of uncertainty in his eyes when he peers over at Harry and his fingers twitch against his palms. 

 

”Really…” Harry murmurs, leaning in to press their lips together once more. 

 

He pushes Draco gently down to lie underneath him and starts to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. As he finally gets the last one to cooperate and can fling the fabric aside, Harry breaks the kiss and leans back slightly to stare at the impossibly pale skin, almost white as porcelain — and maybe just as frail, _because nothing can be this perfect…_ He reaches out, but hardly dares to touch… 

 

He can tell when tension slams into the muscles on display before him and quickly glances up to give the other boy a reassuring smile. Draco swallows thickly, not even bothering to try and smile back and for some reason, seeing the normally composed boy this nervous, makes Harry relax. 

 

”You’re beautiful”, he mumbles.

 

He catches the flicker of doubt in the blonde’s face, but pretends not to have seen. If he says it enough times, he thinks Draco will start to believe him. But if he keeps saying it now, he’ll only overwhelm him and drive him away from this moment. Instead, he focuses on the naked chest underneath him. 

 

The taut skin quivers under the pads of his fingertips as his brushes them lightly down the expanse of all that pale skin, marvelling at its smoothness… he could stare at it for hours, but he knows he only has seconds; Draco is already squirming under his attention and is just about to prop himself up on his elbows, when Harry lurches forward and captures his lips in another desperate, messy kiss… 

 

He lowers himself down to bring their bodies together again cautiously, vaguely aware of his own weight and trying to angle his body slightly to the side and leaning most of it on his own arm propped up next to the blonde’s head, but just as he’s managed to find his balance, a pair of delicate (and surprisingly strong) hands slither down his back and pushes his hips down. He feels an unmistakable hardness press against his own and gasps at the sensation. 

 

The other boy’s lithe body moves in waves under him, undulating eagerly against his own and every time their erections grind together currents of pleasure shoot through Harry — and yet, what really sends him over the edge, is the thought of his jumper rubbing against Draco’s naked torso; the rough texture scratching that pale, smooth skin and leaving it blotchy and pink, ruining that perfection, marking it as _his_ … 

 

Feeling reckless, Harry drags his fingers down the other boy’s chest and when Draco throws his head back, a half-strangled gasp tearing out of his throat as a blunt fingernail catches on his nipple, Harry watches in awe as the full expanse of a no-longer-perfect neck — flushed and shiny with sweat — is exposed to him.

 

Draco clutches his hips hard enough to bruise and snaps his head back to pin him with a stare so deep and wanton it takes Harry’s breath away. His blonde fringe is sticking to his damp forehead no matter how hard he tosses his head and it makes Harry’s chest tight with emotion to see it. 

 

He moves his hand down to rub the hard length of the blonde’s cock through his trousers, watching breathlessly as his teeth sink into his lower lip… 

 

”Don’t”, Harry gasps. ”Please — I want to hear you—”

 

A strangled moan pushes through Draco’s teeth before he opens his mouth wide, his laboured breathing building shamelessly and his hips snapping up to meet Harry’s hand, harder and harder, faster and faster… 

 

”Harry”, he whispers in a broken voice. ”I’m going to — ruin these — trousers soon—”

 

”Y-Yeah…” Harry croaks. 

 

He fumbles one-handedly with the fly, huffing in frustration at the ridiculous amount of _buttons_ to get through — _fucking Madam Malkin, haven’t you ever heard of a zip_ — feeling the other boy’s erection strain against the back of his fingers the whole time, which doesn’t exactly help his focus… Finally he gets the fly undone and Draco eagerly lifts his hips so that he can pull his trousers and pants down. 

 

Curling shaky fingers around the other boy’s erection, familiar and yet completely different to touching his own, Harry marvels at the feeling of the smooth skin pulsing against his palm and starts moving his hand carefully, experimenting with pressure and speed, and soaking up all wretched sounds escaping from the other boy’s throat. 

 

Smearing a pearl of pre-cum with his thumb, Harry is struck by an irresistible impulse to _taste —_ but before he can work up the courage to bend down, Draco’s body is already arching underneath him and with a keening whimper pearly white spurts of semen is splattering in streaks over his flushed skin and the back of Harry’s fingers. 

 

Swallowing thickly, Harry gingerly releases Draco again and rests his hand on top of his jutting hipbone while he waits for him to catch his breath, hyper-aware of the droplets cooling on his fingers and wondering if it would be weird if he licked them off… 

 

”Circe…” Draco pants. ”That was… Way more intense than I thought it would be…”

 

”Yeah…” Harry agrees. 

 

Getting his breathing back under control, Draco gives Harry a curious look. 

 

”What?” Harry says, shifting his body awkwardly to lie on his side next to Draco. 

 

”Nothing…” Draco says, rolling over to face him. ”Your turn.”

 

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. 

 

His straining cock twitches excitedly at the idea of Draco touching him. But at the same time he feels rather shy suddenly. Draco’s fingers curl under the hem of his jumper and pulls it up. It bunches under Harry’s arms and he twists his body awkwardly to pull it off. Draco leans in to capture his lips in a searing kiss and he returns it messily, but jerks back when he feels the other boy’s hands sneak under his shirt to touch his bare skin.

 

”Relax…” Draco murmurs softly. 

 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry mutters, his face flushing in embarrassment. 

 

”I’ll make you feel good…”

 

”Ye-eah — I-I know”, Harry says again. 

 

Ignoring his shirt, Draco grabs his belt and unbuckles it swiftly. Then in no time at all, his deft fingers have unpopped every button of his fly and before Harry even knows how it’s happened, his trousers and pants are pulled down his hips, cool dungeon air is slapping his bare buttocks and his impossibly hard cock is flopping desperately against his belly, before Draco has it in a confident grip. 

 

A choked groan is ripped from his throat as the hand tightens around him almost painfully, almost… Draco’s eyes are boring into him, impossibly bright and dark and it’s too much, too intense — Harry screws his eyes shut, panting desperately as hot, stinging pleasure builds in his sternum… He feels Draco shove his face into the crook of his neck, the tip of a tongue sneaking out to lap at his pulse point… teeth grazing his skin teasingly… then sinking down in a bruising kiss —

 

Harry gasps as pleasure shoots through his nervous system like sparks out of a wand, bright and fiery —

 

Draco continues to pump him gently as he rides the final waves of his orgasm and doesn’t release him until his taut muscles relax and he goes limp against the other boy’s body. He’s vaguely aware of Draco’s semen smearing against his shirt front and even though this is his last clean shirt, he’s simply too spent, too relaxed and _insanely happy_ to care at all…

 

”You’ve got a… love bite…” Draco mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper and Harry feels his fingertips brush his neck where he’d bitten down. ”Sorry…”

 

”No, you’re not”, Harry mumbles, smiling lazily and blinking his eyes open again. 

 

Draco smirks down at him, but says nothing. Harry wriggles a little, pulling his pants and trousers up again. Then flops down on his back with a content sigh and notices for the first time the handful of luminous balloons stuck to the ceiling panel of the four-poster bed, giving the shadows inside the bed hangings a warm glow. 

 

”It was Mother’s idea, back in First Year…” Draco says quietly and Harry turns his head to see the blonde also staring up at the balloons. ”She knew I’d be… not scared exactly but… you know, being away from home for the first time and everything… and I’ve always had this thing with darkness.”

 

He gives Harry a sheepish look, but Harry simply smiles. 

 

”At home, I sleep with a night light, plus the moon usually shines in through my windows, you know how large they are… Mother knew how dark the dorms get here, so before I left she gave me a packet of non-explodable luminous balloons and taught me the Sticking Charm.”

 

”And they’ve held out this long?” Harry says in surprise. 

 

”Oh, no, they usually last about a term… I keep changing them, but now it’s more habit than anything… I’m not scared of the dark, or anything—”

 

”No?” Harry says with a wry smile. ”I am… This is brilliant, I’m going to have to get some for my bed…”

 

Smiling brightly, Draco leans in to give him a peck on the cheek.

 

”Will you help me stick them to my bed?”

 

”Sure…” Draco murmurs, snuggling a little closer. ”I can’t believe Weasley asked Fleur to the Ball…” 

 

Harry hums noncommittally, then stretches out languidly. Catching Draco’s appreciative glance down his body, he grins and leans in to nuzzle his neck. 

 

”What a dunce…” Draco mumbles, clearly distracted by the feathery kisses Harry trails down his neck.

 

”Don’t call him that”, Harry mumbles, his voice muffled against the other boy’s neck. ”I think that girl has got some Veela in her, he probably didn’t know what he was doing…”

 

”Of course you were going to come to his defence…” Draco mutters, but there isn’t much heat behind the words.

 

”I’m not”, Harry protests and leans back slightly. ”I just feel bad for him… Haven’t you seen what it’s like out there lately? The girls in this place have gone crazy in the last few weeks, I’m telling you… Also, they all travel in packs! Imagine having to walk up to a group of them and ask one out only to have all the others laugh in your face when she says ’no’… I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about that!”

 

”About what?” Draco smirks. 

 

”You know… Finding a date…”

 

The smirk on Draco’s face falls away again and he gives Harry a confused look, ”But Professor Snape said you have to, because you’re opening the dance —?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says, blinking. ”But I mean, I’ve already _got_ a date…”

 

Draco continues to stare at him in confusion, and Harry shifts awkwardly. 

 

”You do?”

 

”Well… I mean… We’re going together, aren’t we?”

 

Draco’s eyes widen in understanding and… _regret,_ Harry realises with a pang. 

 

”Oh Harry…”

 

”What?” Harry says suspisciously. 

 

”Harry… You can’t possibly expect me to go to the Ball with you… not after Mother sent me that letter…?” Harry just stares at him. ”Harry, _come on_ … I mean…”

 

Sitting up slowly, Harry twists around to face the other boy. Draco sighs heavily and props himself up on his elbows. 

 

”You _know_ what my parents are like”, he says quietly. ”We can be together, but we have to be discrete…” 

 

”Yeah…” Harry says numbly. ”But…”

 

”Don’t worry, I’ve explained everything to Pansy and she understands—” 

 

”Wait, what — what are you saying —?” 

 

”I’m saying I’ve talked to Pansy, like you asked me t—”

 

” _Pansy?_ ” Harry repeats incredulously. ”What’s _she_ got to do with _this_ —?”

 

”Well, I have to go to the Ball with her, won’t I?” Draco says and sits up properly. ”Don’t look at me like that! You told me to tell you what I need, _and I am telling you!_ I have to take Pansy to the Yule Ball, or my parents will _flip out_ —!” 

 

”But why do you have to take _Pansy?_ Why do you have to take _anyone?_ We can go as _friends_ —!” 

 

”Oh please!” Draco snaps, pulling his pants and trousers up with jerky movements. ”Be realistic! Like anyone’s going to buy that after seeing that picture in the Prophet—!” 

 

” _Fine!_ ” Harry snaps. ”But why does it have to be Pansy — you _know_ how I feel about her—!”

 

”She’s been making a real effort to get on with you this year, but you won’t even give her a chance!” Draco says and points an accusatory finger at his chest.

 

A small voice in the back of Harry’s mind, that he’s too angry to pay attention to right now, pipes up saying he has actually noticed the change in the girl’s attitude towards him. 

 

”I just don’t. get. your. problem with _Pansy_ ”, Draco continues, all but tearing his hair in frustration. ” _You know_ we’re just friends. _You know_ I’m not attracted to her. So you have nothing — _nothing_ — to worry about, and yet _she’s_ the one you’re jealous of! Where is the logic in that! Please tell me, because I’m dying to know! I mean, who would _you_ rather I take to the Ball then—?” 

 

”You know who—” Harry grinds out. 

 

” _Well, I can’t take you!_ ” Draco hollers. ”And I’m sorry! Okay? So who would you rather I take then? _Hm?_ Strapping Seamus—?”

 

” _Strapping!_ ” Harry splutters incredulously. 

 

”—Beautiful Blaise? Dreamy Diggory?”

 

Harry stares. At no point has it ever _really_ occurred to him that Draco might find other boys attractive. Until now… Something like regret flickers in the blonde’s eyes, as he finally stops to breathe. 

 

”So that’s it then”, Harry says bitterly. ”You’re going to take Pansy to the Ball?”

 

”You said you understood—” 

 

”Well, I guess I was wrong!” Harry yells, his own anger getting the best of him for a moment, before he takes a deep breath and forces it to simmer down again. ”I need to get out of here, I need to think…”

 

Scrambling out of bed and rearranging his clothes angrily and pulling his robes on with shaky hands, before Summoning his Nimbus from its place on top of his trunk and stomping out of the dorm. He doesn’t feel the stinging of tears until he’s halfway out of the dungeons.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Now, now. Don't do anything hasty. We still have a bit of a way to go, it's all going to be FINE.


	26. The Yule Ball

 

For the first time ever, the swooping sensation in his stomach and the wind rushing past his ears, isn’t enough to ease the tension in Harry’s body or calm the frantic whirr of thoughts in his head… He tries to focus on the conversation he just had with Draco, but his mind keeps flashing back to another conversation… Sitting with Sirius in the kitchen, listening but not hearing, not _wanting_ to hear… 

 

 _The Malfoys are one of the oldest Pureblood families in Britain, they’re traditionalists… and you know these traditionalists, they like to_ arrange _things…_

 

 _I’m sure they’re more flexible about it nowadays, but I’m almost certain their views on same sex relationships haven’t changed — it all boils down to_ lineage _, furthering the_ family bloodline _…_

 

_It’s a very pureblood-typical, outdated double standard; they don’t care who you keep company with, as long as you marry an appropriate candidate of the opposite gender and produce an heir…_

 

 _So what, you think Draco’s engaged to Pansy?_ he’s asked incredulously, but as soon as he’d said it, even then the thought touched on something inside him, something he’d buried as deep as it would go, and still it was there waiting for him when he started digging… waiting to tell him, _you knew this all along_ …

 

Blinking hot tears from his eyes, Harry flattens himself along his Nimbus and speeds up, plummeting towards the ground and pulling up at the last minute, his heart pounding… swerving faster and faster; flying in tighter and tighter loops to mirror the progress of his thoughts, until he’s too dizzy to think at all, and then he simply cruises in lazy figure eights over the tree tops and lets his pulse settle down again…

 

 _That boy is so in love with you, anyone can see it from a mile away,_ his daddy had told him later that eveing. It had reassured him then, but now… _What does that matter, if he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it?_

 

Harry is aware that he’s not being quite fair. He’d told Draco that he understood if they would have to keep their relationship a secret, that he could live with that, as long as he knew for sure that there was nothing really going on between Draco and Pansy… if Draco promised to tell her the truth — _which he did_ , Harry thinks. _He’s done everything I’ve asked him to… and still —_

 

Still… What about the future? Fine if they can’t go to the Yule Ball together. Although it stings a little, Harry can live with that. It’s just a stupid dance, it doesn’t mean anything. But what about after the dance? What about after graduation? How long does Draco expect them to keep their relationship a secret?

 

And what about his parents’ expectations of him marrying a Pureblood witch? If he’s prepared to take Pansy to the Yule Ball to appease them now, will he then be prepared to marry her in the future as well?

 

 _Where does that leave me?_ Harry thinks in dismay, even as that nasty voice in the back of his head whispers, _hidden in the shadows as the bridegroom’s secret lover…_

 

 _Well fuck that,_ he thinks furiously. 

 

At some point, he’ll want a family of his own. He’s always dreamed of being a dad to at least two children. Will Draco be able to father those children with him, if he can’t even publicly be his boyfriend? 

 

_If not…_

 

If not, then what’s the point? If their relationship is already doomed, then why even bother?

 

As his thoughts whirl faster and faster in his head, the tighter his frustration coils in his belly. Finally he touches down on the ground again with sigh and decides he’ll only drive himself crazy trying to wrap his mind around all these questions. He needs a sounding board; he needs to talk to his daddy. 

 

Storming back into the dorm, Harry walks right past an anxious-looking Draco and throws the Nimbus on top of his bed. 

 

”Still need time”, he grunts, cutting the other boy off even before he’s uttered a sound. 

 

Wrenching his trunk open, he digs out some parchment and a rather rumpled quill. But he can’t find an ink well anywhere. Cursing under his breath, Harry kicks the trunk angrily. 

 

”I-I have some ink…” Draco says in a small voice. 

 

Taking a deep breath and then releasing it again in a rush, Harry turns around. Draco is fidgeting nervously, an ink well clutched in front of him. As Harry looks up and meets his eyes finally, he hurriedly holds it out like some kind of peace offering. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry mutters and snatches it from him. 

 

Then without another word, he hurries past the other boy and out of the dorm again. 

 

He walks straight to the owlery and disregarding the filthy floor he sits down cross-legged and begins to scribble down his thoughts. It’s as if a dam has broken inside of him. Before he knows it, he’s pouring out all of his feelings and insecurities, and particularly his questions. He writes until he’s run out of parchment. 

 

Then he pushes to his feet and pokes one of the school owls. It wakes up with a flutter of wings and obediently holds out its leg so that Harry can tie the letter to it, then flies out of the nearest window and disappears amongst the clouds. 

 

While he waits for the reply Harry walks around the edge of the lake, stopping after a while to toss some flat rocks along the water surface, then continues his slow trot until he’s back where he started…

 

When he spots the approaching owl his heart leaps, but as soon as he’s unrolled the short reply it seems to sink like a stone again. 

 

 

_”Puppy,_

 

_You should be asking Draco these questions…_

 

_Good luck, sweetie!_

 

_Love_

_Your daddy”_

 

 

Crumpling the parchment in his hand angrily, Harry kicks a rock into the water. He relishes the throbbing pain in his toes for a moment, before he starts to walk back to the castle. 

 

This time when he returns to the Slytherin Common Room, Draco is sitting with the girls in front of the fire again. He immediately looks up when Harry walks in, as if expecting him and when Harry approaches his eyes are wary but hopeful, while the girls glare suspisciously. Harry ignores them and keeps his eyes pinned firmly on Draco’s. 

 

”Can we talk?” he mutters. 

 

Draco nods and hurriedly climbc to his feet. Harry wheels around and stomps back to the dorm, trusting the other boy to follow. 

 

As they shut the door behind them, Harry is struck by a sense of deja vú and has to take a deep breath to ground himself. As much as he would prefer to repeat their earlier tryst and leave the questions for another time, they need to address this… _He_ needs to…

 

”I’ve been thinking”, he begins. 

 

Draco’s eyes are impossible big and shiny. He reminds Harry of Selina when she wants a cuddle. Sighing in frustration, he tears his eyes away and glares at the floor board between their feet instead. 

 

”I’ve been thinking about the future”, he starts again. ”I mean…”

 

Another sigh of frustration escapes him and he plucks the glasses off his face and rubs a hand roughly over his eyes… How come he could write inches and inches worth of questions in his letter to his daddy, but now he can’t even formulate a single one?

 

Pushing the glasses back on his face, Harry glances up at the other boy again. He looks wary, scared almost. And then it hits Harry — like a smack in the face — and he knows what he needs to do…

 

”You know what… It’s fine”, he says blankly, registering the look of surprise and relief on the other boy’s face and steeling himself. ”Take Pansy to the Ball, get your parents off your back…” 

 

”R-Really?” 

 

”Yes. I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your parents. So you do what you have to do and I’ll… I’ll ask someone else to the Ball…” 

 

Draco blinks. ”Someone else?” 

 

”Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it and… maybe it’s better this way, you know… I mean, we’re only fourteen”, Harry says, swallowing hard. 

 

”What way?” Draco asks quietly. 

 

”You know”, Harry says off-handedly. ”Not being exclusive.” 

 

Draco’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth a couple of times, but no words come out. Harry forces himself to plaster a smile on his face, even though nothing has ever made him feel less inclined to smile in his life. And then he wills himself to walk away. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, until he reaches Seamus, Theodore and Blaise out in the Common Room. He’s not sure if Draco has followed him out of the dorm until Pansy asks him where he is. He avoids meeting the girl’s eyes and tells her he probably went to lie down with a book or something. 

 

”Who’s winning?” he asks Blaise and feigns interest in the chess game going on in front of him. 

 

Blaise narrows his eyes at him. Harry swallows and meets his eyes steadily, raising his eyebrows in expectation. 

 

”I am”, the boy says after a slightly too long pause. ”Who else…”

 

Harry nods, not really caring. He imagines he can still hear the wind rushing past his ears… 

 

 

*

 

As the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas approaches, the autumn grey of the sky steadily turns to white promising snow. Draco hasn’t spoken one word to Harry since their rather one-sided conversation in the dorm and it’s been almost four days… Harry has also become Pansy’s and Daphne’s least favourite person after Hermione Granger again, the girls having taken to scowl at him until he caves in and returns their glares, only to then haughtily turn away and sniff in disgust… 

 

However, Harry is determined to keep his resolve, sure that his gut feeling will steer him right even if he, in the meantime, has to suffer through the girls’ annoying behaviour and (more importantly) the tense silence between himself and Draco.

 

Resolve aside, Harry is beyond relieved when Saturday morning rolls around and he is lining up to have his name ticked by Filch the caretaker, eager to get away from it all and go home to his dads, to forget about the Yule Ball, and the Triwizard Tournament, and even Draco, even if it’s just for one day…

 

As always, his daddy comes outside to meet him when he walks up the small driveway and Harry more or less runs into his waiting arms. 

 

”Oh, it’s wonderful to have you home…” Remus mumbles, his voice muffled by Harry’s hair. 

 

”It’s great to _be_ home”, Harry says. 

 

”Come on, I’ve made your favourite…”

 

”Where’s dad?” Harry asks, sinking down in his usual seat at the kitchen table. 

 

”He was called into work late last night and he’s still not home”, Remus says with a sigh. ”He said to say _sorry_ if he missed you, but he might still make it home before you have to go back…”

 

”Yeah, we’ll see I guess…” Harry says, returning his daddy’s pinched smile. 

 

”So did you and Draco work it out?”

 

”Ehm…” Harry looks down at his plate and prods the pie slice awkwardly. ”Yeah, almost… I eh… kind of gave him an ultimatum…”

 

Peering up at Remus’ face again, Harry catches the look of surprise in his eyes before he blinks it away. 

 

”You… you did?” he says blankly. 

 

”Yeah, sort of”, Harry says and swallowing round the small lump in his throat he looks down again. ”Not outright, but he’ll take it as one… I just said maybe it’s for the better if we’re not exclusive anyway, so he should take Pansy to the Ball like he wants and I’ll just ask someone else —” 

 

”Harry…” 

 

He can hear the disapproval in his daddy’s voice and can’t bring himself to look up again. To see it in his face, see the disappointment in his eyes, that would just be too much… 

 

”Now I just have to find someone who’ll go with me, and then I’m sure Draco will —” 

 

”Get jealous?” 

 

”— Come around”, Harry corrects, shifting uncomfortably and scowling at his Shepard’s pie. 

 

”Harry, I understand that you’re hurting, but you can’t just use people—” 

 

”I’m not”, Harry says firmly. ”I asked someone I like to a dance and they said no. Now I’m going to ask someone else. Because I can’t go to the Ball without a partner, Snape told me so. What else am I supposed to do—?” 

 

”I guess I’ll have to trust you to do what feels right, Harry…” Remus says, but he says it in a way that makes Harry feel awful about himself. 

 

”Can we please talk about something else?” he mutters.

 

Remus sighs softly. But after a moment’s awkward silence, he starts telling Harry about the textbook he’s working on and Harry gratefully dives into the conversation, asking him every question he can think of and by the time he’s getting ready to go back to Hogwarts, he feels a little better about himself again. 

 

That is, until he gets back to the Common Room and sees Draco, Pansy and Daphne huddled together in the corner and accidentally locks eyes with the blonde boy for a second, before he quickly looks down and frowns at the sketch book in front of him, looking like a kicked puppy… Pansy and Daphne shoot Harry a set of thunderous glares that makes him feel all of three inches tall and he swallows a sigh.

 

In a moment of weakness, he considers disregarding Professor Snape and revolt against the traditions of the Triwizard Tournament and just go alone to the Yule Ball after all… Rita Skeeter likes to call him a rebel, so he might as well live up to the title… 

 

”You can’t go alone”, Blaise tells him firmly, when he voices this thought. ”That will just highlight things and Draco will get upset, trust me…”

 

”Damn it…” Harry mutters and then gives the other boy a speculative look. 

 

”Oh no… I’m not coming between you and Draco, no way… and don’t bother asking Seamus either, or anyone else in Slytherin, unless it’s Millicent Bulstrode or something.” 

 

”Millicent Bulstrode?” Harry repeats in confusion. 

 

”Yeah, you know someone who’s obviously not a threat… could be Daphne too, but I don’t think Seamus would be too happy about that. He’s still harbouring his delusional crush on her… but there’s the younger girls as well, Astoria Greengrass is pretty cute and you’re about the same height as her too, so you won’t look like a midget on the dance floor—!” 

 

Harry shoots him a sour look. 

 

”Of course, if you actually _wanted_ to take someone Draco would perceive as a threat”, Blaise adds in a conspiratorial undertone. ”If you should want to, you know, _make him jealous_ … I’d look to Gryffindor. Hit him where it really hurts — and if you ever tell anyone, especially Draco, that I said that, I will cut off your bullocks in your sleep!”

 

Harry nods quickly, then sinks into thought as Blaise’s word echo on a loop in his head… of course, he knows exactly which Gryffindor his friend is referring to… and if he really wants to make Draco jealous, then taking Ron to the Ball will definitely do the trick, there’s no doubt about that — and he’d be sure to enjoy himself with the redhead at the ball as well — but question is, would it be a step too far… He wants to rattle Draco, not push him away completely after all…

 

It’s Pansy that finally settles it for him. 

 

Harry walks into the Common Room on the morning of the twentieth and sees the girl drape a silk necktie around Draco’s neck, the pale pink fabric matching a dress thrown over the back of a nearby armchair perfectly, and Daphne who is admiring Pansy’s skills as the girl begins to tie the necktie, claps her hands together and squeals, ”You’re going to look so gorgeous together!”

 

Harry zeroes in on the cool smirk on Pansy’s face and feels a small but strong ball of white-hot rage flare up in the pit of his stomach, and it’s that rage that propels him forward and pushes him to walk out of the Common Room and up from the dungeons. 

 

It urges him on past herds of giggling girls and Christmas carolling suits of armours in the corridors, and carries him out into the bright sunlight outside the castle, made all the more brighter by the blanket of fresh snow on the grounds. 

 

Finally he spots a familiar mop of red hair across the courtyard and stalks over. Ron looks up in surprise when Harry stops in front of the bottom half of the snowman he appears to be building with Longbottom and Granger. His nose and cheeks are almost as red as his hair and his eyes are bright. _He’s not pretty, or even handsome but there’s something pleasant about his face,_ Harry thinks. Not that it matters. He’s not _actually_ asking the boy out. 

 

”Hi Ron”, he says.

 

”Ehm, hiya, Harry…”

 

”Oh — er — hi, Granger, Longbottom”, Harry adds hastily after an awkward pause.

 

”Hi…” they chorus pleasantly enough, but their eyes are guarded as they peer at him over the top of the snowman.

 

”Ron, can I talk to you? Er… in private?”

 

”Ehm… sure, I guess…” the taller boy says, his cheeks growing redder. 

 

They walk a few paces away from the other two Gryffindors and the half-finished snowman, the unnaturally loud crunching of the snow under their feet highlighting the silence between them. Harry glances up at the other boy, noticing how much taller he’s become since the last time they were this close and swallowing a sigh… seems like every boy in their year, apart from Harry, is having growth spurt after growth spurt…

 

”So… what’s up?” Ron says, glancing down at Harry as they reach the edge of the courtyard. 

 

”Well… actually, I was wondering if you have a date for the Yule Ball yet, because if not I was thinking maybe… maybe you and I could go together… _as friends!_ ” he adds hastily. 

 

”Friends…?” Ron repeats in a hollow sort of voice, staring at him in disbelief. 

 

”If you want”, Harry mutters awkwardly. 

 

”You’re… ehm… you’re not taking ferret-face—?”

 

Harry frowns.

 

”Sorry”, Ron says quickly. ”Malfoy — you’re not taking Malfoy?”

 

”No”, Harry says flatly. ”So what do you say?”

 

”Ehm, well, I mean… I guess so?” the redhead says uncertainly, the redness in his face reaching his ears. 

 

”Cool…” Harry says, smiling for the first time, but then he remembers what Professor Snape told him and his face falls again. ”Oh, ehm, actually… I should probably tell you, as a champion I have to dance at least once, to… er, open the ball. It’s tradition apparently, so… if you’re okay with that—?”

 

”What, dance with you in front… everyone…?” Ron says faintly, blinking quickly.

 

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly, wincing at the look of horror on the other boy’s face. ”I mean it wouldn’t be just us, it would be the other champions and their partners as well, and let’s be honest, out of the four of us, no-one’s going to be looking at me, are they? Not next to an international Quidditch star, a part-Veela and someone who’s apparently _’dreamy’_ …”

 

Ron laughs and shakes his head slightly, ”Who called Diggory ’dreamy’ then?”

 

”Who didn’t…” Harry mutters. 

 

”Well, _you’re_ the Boy Hero, mate…” the other boy says with a teasing grin. ”All right, I’ll do it. I’ll go to the Ball with you.”

 

Harry’s lack of interest in dicussing dress robes and colour schemes finally comes back to bite him on the bottom on the evening of Christmas Eve when he takes out the dress robes he’s meant to wear the next night. They’re cut in a simple design, which is all right, but the _fabric…_ the all but shimmering emerald green fabric that he’d randomly pointed to in _Madam Malkin’s_ last summer without even really looking at it… 

 

Well, he’s looking _now_ and there’s simply no way that he’ll be able to show himself in public wearing something so… so… _green!_

 

Looking around in a panic, he sees Seamus’ light blue dress robes slung carelessly over the footboard of his bed and on the hangings of the four-poster next to it, Blaise’s dress robes are hung with a Temporary Sticking Charm. They’re a nice, subtle ox blood. 

 

Swirling around, Harry sees Crabbe and Goyle’s dress robes are both green as well, but a very dark forest green and not nearly as luminous as Harry’s. Theodore’s are a nice, subtle midnight blue and Draco’s, he knows, are made from black velvet — _with a stupid pink necktie…_

 

 _I’ll stand out like a sore thumb,_ he thinks wildly. _It will be me and Dumbledore!_

 

Choking down a hysterical impulse to laugh, Harry thinks he might as well go all out and attach a bunch of twinkly stars on the sleeves and then fashion himself a nice long pointy hat to go with the outfit as well… Collapsing on his back on top of his bed, Harry smothers his face with the horrid dress robes and groans. 

 

Any hope he might have had of sneaking by unnoticed during the opening dance number has just gone out the window. Sure, Krum is an international Quidditch star, Fleur Veela-gorgeous and Diggory _dreamy…_ but will any of them be _glowing in the dark?_

 

 _I don’t think so,_ Harry thinks bitterly.

 

He’s still fretting about it the next evening, standing on tip toe in front of the mirror in the Slytherin boys’ bathroom and twisting awkwardly to get a better look at the robes from all angles. The mirror snickers at him and he glares at it, or rather his own reflection… He hears the door creak open behind him and spins around. 

 

Draco stops dead inside the threshold and stares at him. He’s wearing his velvet dress robes and they’re hugging his slim frame in all the right places, looking impossibly black — Harry is reminded of the Black Lake at night and is struck by the absurb desire to _dive in_ …

 

Something pink catches his peripheral and he looks down to see the silk necktie clutched in the other boy’s pale fingers. 

 

Feeling his resolve slam back into place, Harry steels himself and turns back to face the mirror. 

 

”You look nice”, he says, taking care to keep his voice neutral and almost succeeding. 

 

”You t-too…” the other boy mutters faintly. 

 

Harry scowls at his own reflection again as the mirror lets out another derisive snigger. He wets his hands with water from the taps and tries to flatten his hair, pulling on his fringe to get it to cover the scar on his forehead. 

 

Draco sidles up next to him and starts to tie the necktie with slow and careful movements. 

 

”So who did you ask…?” 

 

Harry glances over and catches the transformation from petulant to polite interest in the other boy’s face. 

 

”Just a friend”, he says vaguely. ”I’ll see you at the ball…”

 

Then before the blonde can say anything else or ask any follow-up questions, Harry hurries out of the bathroom. 

 

Eager to show off in front of their foreign guests, the teachers at Hogwarts have continued to push themselves to the limit with the Christmas decorations… Besides the Everlasting icicles hanging from every available surface like the banisters of stairscases and window sills around the castle, the twelve Christmas trees inside the cavernous Entrance Hall have been decorated with everything from luminous holly berries to real live fairies and golden owls, hooting happily every time a student walks past and now, as every Hogwarts student in Fourth Year and above have gathered between the trees to await the strike of eight o’clock excitedly, the owls are fluttering their wings and hooting almost manically. 

 

As every other student with a partner from another house, Harry is weaving his way through the crowd scanning the faces around him until he spots a mop of messy red hair and quickly makes his way over. 

 

His apology for wearing such eye-catching dress robes immediately dissolves on his tongue as Ron’s own dress robes registers. Like Draco’s they’re made out of velvet, but that’s where the similarities end. Abruptly. Whereas Draco’s robes had shimmered like the surface of the Dark Lake when he’d moved, the maroon velvet of Ron’s robes is matte with wear and the lace frill at the collar as well as the matching cuffs look moth-eaten and frayed. 

 

Harry blinks. Ron’s face immediately turns tomato red and he mumbles something about leaving it at the last minute and having to get a used pair of dress robes. 

 

Feeling strangely relieved for some reason, Harry simply grins. 

 

”These were the only ones in my size —”

 

”I think they’re awesome”, he says and finds to his own surprise that he actually means it — they’re so ugly, they’re actually quite cool. ”You’ll match the Weird Sisters!”

 

”Oh yeah, I hadn’t thought of that”, Ron says, perking up again. 

 

The oak front doors open and the Durmstrang students march inside lead by Karkaroff, looking as smarmy as ever in his fur-lined robes. Harry’s eyes immediately dart to Krum at the front of the group. He, like all the other boys from Durmstrang, is wearing blood red robes lined with dark brown fur, a stark contrast to the light blue robes of the petite girl hanging off his arm. Harry doesn’t recognise her and thinks she must be a Beauxbatons… 

 

”Champions and their partners, over here, please!” Professor McGonagall’s stern voice calls from the closed doors to the Great Hall. 

 

Harry and Ron begin to make their way over to the doors, the crowd parting to let them through, and stop in front of the ever stern-faced Transfigurations teacher. Keeping true to her heritage, Professor McGonagall has chosen to go with dress robes of Christmas red tartan and fashioned a small wreath of thistle along the rim of her hat. 

 

Soon they’re joined by Fleur Delacour and her partner, a very handsome blonde boy from Beauxbatons, wearing matching silver and blue, and Diggory with his arm around the waist of a pretty Ravenclaw Fifth Year called Cho Chang, whom Harry recognises from the Quidditch pitch. She has the Seeker position on the Ravenclaw team and is very good. 

 

Lastly, Krum sidles up to Harry, the girl in blue pulled close to his side. Harry does a double take and stares at her. 

 

It’s Hermione Granger. 

 

”Good evening, Harry…” Krum grunts softly. 

 

”Hi Harry”, Granger squeals happily. 

 

Harry, catching himself gaping like a fish, immediately snaps his mouth shut and  presses his lips together in a small smile before tearing his eyes away from the girl and fixing them instead on the Durmstrang boy. 

 

”Mr Weasley”, Krum adds politely, nodding at Ron.

 

Harry turns to see Ron gaping at Hermione as well and gently knocks his shoulder against his arm. The redhead jumps and quickly composes himself, but Harry can see him continue to make incredulous eyes at the girl, trying to communicate silently with her. If the other Gryffindor notices however, she doesn’t let on. Instead she looks around in interest, her large front teeth glinting in the lights from the Christmas trees around them. 

 

”Well, then…” Professor McGonagall says. ”You are to wait here until the rest of the students are seated, then you will enter as a cortege and make your way to the Head Table at the front of the Hall… understood?”

 

They all murmur in affirmative, glancing nervously at each other. 

 

With a satisfied curt nod, Professor MacGonagall flicks her wand at the massive oak doors and they immediately creak open. Then with a last stern look, she leaves them to instruct the rest of the student body to enter the Great Hall. 

 

Harry automatically scans the faces of the other students as they walk past, but as soon as he catches a flash of white-blonde hair, he ducks his head and stares at the floor instead before he can see the look in Draco’s face, suddenly terrified to find out what emotions might be at war there, now that he knows Harry’s asked Ron to the Ball. 

 

As they all line up procession style, Harry scans the other champions and their partners quickly, deciding his and Ron’s best chance at going unnoticed is to let Krum and Fleur go first but let Diggory bring up the rear, the Hufflepuff being taller and than both Harry and Ron and his shiny hair and dazzling smile is enough to draw anyone’s attention. So grabbing Ron’s hand quickly, he squeezes in between Krum and Diggory with an apologetic smile at Cho Chang as the girl has to take a step back. 

 

Walking into the Great Hall to the applause of the other students, Harry feels his cheeks burn and ducks his head quickly, shaking his hair into his face. It’s not until they come to a stop in front of the teachers seated at the Head Table that Harry looks up and immediately locks eyes with a young red-haired wizard sitting next to Ludo Bagman. Ignoring Ron’s groan next to him, Harry makes his way over to the empty seat next to the wizard when he gives him a expectant look and pulls the chair out meaningfully. 

 

”Hello, Harry…” the young man says importantly. ”It’s good to see you again…”

 

 _Again,_ Harry thinks with a pang. _I know this guy?_

 

”Ron…” the man adds, nodding at Ron as he takes the seat on the other side of Harry. 

 

Looking between the two of them and noticing the family resemblance for the first time, Harry realises this must be one of Ron’s older brothers… _and if we’ve met, it must have been at Hogwarts, so this must be —_

 

”Percy”, he says, smiling politely. 

 

”What are you doing here?” Ron mutters.

 

”I’ve just been promoted”, Percy says with an air of supreme superiority. ”I’m now Mr Crouch’s _personal_ assistant, and I’m here representing him…”

 

”Why isn’t he here himself?” Harry asks curiously.

 

”I’m afraid Mr Crouch isn’t well, not well at all”, Percy says with a melodramatically pained look on his face. ”Hasn’t been since the World Cup — well, no wonder — overworked, of course! He’s not as young as he used to be, after all, though still brilliant, of course! The mind remains as great as it ever was, but the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry and being the great man that he is, Mr Crouch felt personally responsible, which is of course absurd, _he_ did nothing wrong after all, but after that nasty business with that house-elf of his as well, let’s just say he took it very hard, very hard indeed — and now he has no-one looking after him either, and like I said, he _is_ getting on…”

 

Harry stares as the older Weasley continues to talk, wondering in amazement if he ever needs to breathe…

 

”… and with that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around as well — no, poor man’s having a well-earned, quiet Christmas. I’m just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place!”

 

Percy turns to look at Harry and Ron again finally, drawing himself up importantly and raising his eyebrows as if expecting praise. Harry smiles politely at him and nods, but Ron merely snorts. 

 

”So has he stopped calling you ’Weatherby’ yet?” he asks lightly. 

 

That seems to deflate the other Weasley considerably and he slouches in his seat before shooting his younger brother a glare. 

 

Not wanting to get dragged into a sibling dispute, Harry quickly looks away from the both of them and notices for the first time that the four house tables have been replaced by a hundred or so smaller round tables, each lit by a lantern in its centre and seating a dozen people. 

 

Hundreds of garlands of ivy and mistletoe hang between the frost glittering walls and snow is falling from the Enchanted Ceiling, only to fade into nothingness just before reaching the hundreds upon hundreds of candles floating in midair.

 

 _It’s beautiful,_ Harry thinks, just as he hears Fleur’s unimpressed voice drift over from a few seats away, claiming that the Palace of Beauxbatons is more impressive and magnificent in every way, her date nodding his agreement with a snooty look at the ceiling. Harry snorts softly to himself and looks away.  

 

Noticing the small printed menu propped against his water goblet, he picks it up and scans the short list of options. He looks around the hall curiously, but doesn’t spot and waiters anywhere and wonders how they’re meant to let the house-elves in the kitchen know which dish they want… But just as this thought has struck him, Professor Dumbledore picks up his own menu a few seats down from Harry and then clears his throat softly before telling his empty plate in a clear voice, ” _Pork chops!_ ”

 

Instantly, his plate is filled with pork chops and the rest of the table follow his lead and order their own food. Looking at the menu again, Harry decides on goulash and tells his plate so. In the next moment, a bowl of goulash stew appears on top of it. Grinning, Harry grabs his fork and starts to dig in. 

 

For the most part Harry spends the duration of the dinner chatting amicably with Ron, the two of them bringing each other up to date with their lives and sharing stories from the classes they don’t share. Ron wisely steers clear of the subject of Draco and his and Harry’s relationship and Harry happily returns the favour by not commenting on the furtive looks Ron keeps throwing Granger and Krum throughout the dinner. All in all, Harry surprises himself by having a really pleasant time. 

 

When plates have been scraped clean of pudding, Professor Dumbledore stands up and instructs the students to stand as well and then moves the round tables aside with a flick of his wand. The lanterns die down and the candles overhead begin to burn a lot brighter. With a lurch, Harry realises the Headmaster has just created a dance floor in the middle of the Great Hall. 

 

There is a collective intake of breath followed by a hiss of excited whispers as Dumbledore conjures up a small stage along the right-hand wall of the hall, upon which a drum set, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes pop into existence. 

 

In the next moment, the Weird Sisters themselves walk onto the stage and the Hall erupts in enthusiastic applause and cheers. Harry beams, clapping his hands furiously. The members of the band all have matching mops of scraggly hair that makes Harry’s hairstyle look conservatively tame and their shiny black robes are ripped and torn and frayed. 

 

The lead guitarist, Kirely Duke, grabs one of the guitars and slings the strap over his shoulder and the rest of the band quickly follows suit, grabbing their instruments while Myron Wagtail, the singer, performs a Sonorous Charm on himself. 

 

Harry is so excited about the concert that he completely forgets about what’s about to happen, until Ron prods his arm insistently and he looks around to see the other champions and their partners standing. 

 

”Come on”, Ron says, also standing but bent down to speak in an undertone. ”We’re supposed to dance!”

 

Feeling all eyes on him as he hurries to his feet and promptly trips over the hem of his dress robes, Harry quickly grabs Ron’s arm as he the taller boy reaches out to catch him. Face burning, Harry mutters a _thanks_ and lets the other boy grab his hand gently and steer him out onto the dance floor where the other three couples are already poised gracefully and waiting for them. 

 

Ron pulls him a little closer to his body and puts his other hand gingerly on the small of Harry’s back. Swallowing nervously, Harry puts his own free hand on top of Ron’s shoulder. As soon as it lands, Kirely Duke plays the first wailing chord of the intro to one of their most well-known ballads. 

 

Glancing shyly at the other champions, Harry is dismayed to see them begin to move gracefully over the floor. He peers up into Ron’s face nervously and tries to follow as best as he can when the taller boy begins to lead him in time to the music. It’s not as bad as Harry had feared, he doesn’t trip over his own feet (or Ron’s) and fall flat on his face, but his movements are jerky and he keeps second-guessing himself and missing his cues to take a step. 

 

Ron seems equally embarassed, but suddenly he pauses their awkward two-step infused waltz and Harry looks up in surprise. The Gryffindor’s blue eyes are twinkling and he smiles nervously. 

 

”Ready?” he mumbles. 

 

”Wha—?” Harry begins, but immediately cuts himself off with a startled yelp as he is suddenly and forcefully spun around quickly. 

 

With a carefree chuckle, Ron keeps spinning him round and round and, somewhere around the third or fourth spin, just before he starts to get dizzy, Harry cracks up and also relaxes for the first time since they stood up from the table. When the other boy finally stops spinning him, Harry crashes into his chest, laughing hard as his vision clears again. The taller boy is grinning down at him and Harry finds himself returning it stupidly. 

 

After that, they just have fun with it. Ron keeps guiding him with sure movements, spinning him once, here and there, and even dipping him backwards at one point, laughing as Harry lets out a startles squeak and clutches his arms in a panic. Harry is vaguely aware of a smatter of applause and appreciative chuckles from the other students around them, as Ron pulls him up again and he gives the taller boy a good-natured shove on the chest before falling into step with him again. 

 

As the first song finally finishes and a new one starts, most of the students grab their partners and flood the dance floor all around them. 

 

”Want to take a break?” Ron grins. 

 

”Sure…” Harry says, slightly winded from dancing so enthusiastically and laughing almost the whole time as well. 

 

They weave through the dancing crowd and make their way over to the refreshments table in the corner. Harry wipes the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his robe while Ron pours them both a cup of punch.

 

”Thanks”, he says as he accepts the offered cup. ”Do you mind if we step outside for a minute, it’s really hot in here…”

 

Ron nods his agreement and they make their way out into the Entrance Hall and walk over to the open oak doors for some fresh air. As they reach the doors, they notice several massive rose bushes that have been planted on the lawn over night, growing high and connecting at the top, creating a sort of grotto twinkling with fairy lights… In the middle of the grotto stands several statues of what appears to be Father Christmas and his reindeer. 

 

”Wow…” Harry breathes and steps outside, staring in wonder at the display in front of him. 

 

”Let’s check it out”, Ron suggests and touches Harry’s elbow gently. 

 

They step inside the grotto and Harry looks up at the many fairies sitting perched on the branches above him and smiles. Looking down again, he catches Ron staring at him before the other boy quickly looks up as well and nods in agreement. 

 

”It’s nice…”

 

They stand in silence, sipping their drinks for a moment. It’s not awkward or tense, but not entirely comfortable either… Harry can’t really explain it, but something about the atmosphere is just too obviously romantic… _and Ron’s great, he’s just not the person I really want to be out here with, that’s all,_ Harry thinks. 

 

Looking over at the other boy, he wonders who _he’d_ rather be out here with. Then he remembers the looks he kept throwing Granger during dinner. 

 

”Granger looks really pretty tonight”, he says in a carefully neutral voice and watches the other boy closely over the rim of his cup. 

 

”I guess…” Ron mumbles. ”And… ehm… er… I kind of wanted to change the subject to Malfoy, but I can’t really say I think he looks pretty, so… yeah…”

 

Harry snorts in amusement, ”Well, you don’t know what you’re talking about then, because he’s _incredibly_ pretty —”

 

”Ugh…” Ron mutters, pulling a face that makes Harry laugh, but then he seems to get thoughtful. ”So it’s true then… you and him, you’re… you know?”

 

”Rita Skeeter might be a lying cow, but there’s no way she could have faked that photograph, is there…”

 

”No, but… I dunno… I’ve kissed friends before”, Ron says, blushing a deep red. ”Maybe not like _that_ , but… I figured maybe you did things differently in Slytherin…”

 

Harry laughs, ”Probably…”

 

”So, anyway… how come you didn’t take him to this thing, then?”

 

”It’s complicated”, Harry says wryly.  

 

”Yeah, why doesn’t that surprise me”, Ron says and gives him a sympathetic smile. 

 

Nibbling his lower lip thoughtfully, Harry considers confiding in the Gryffindor… he seems to have a very logical mind and, even though it’s clear he’s grown up with lots of siblings and most of them older, since he comes off as very blunt sometimes, when he has to, Harry thinks he can be just as sensitive and supportive as Draco.

 

Mind made up, Harry opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get the words out, they hear a familiar voice from the other side of the rose bushes… 

 

”—don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor”, Professor Snape says coldly. 

 

”Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” the harsch voice of Professor Karkaroff answers, sounding anxiously hushed and not at all smarmy as usual. ”It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months, I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

 

”Then flee”, Snape snaps. ”Flee, I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

 

Suddenly the dense wall of the rose bushes behind Harry and Ron is blasted apart and as the light of the moon outside spills in through the hole, it illuminates the silhouettes of two other students before they run through the hole with startled yelps. 

 

”Ten points from Hufflepuff, Fawcett”, they hear Snape snarl.

 

Harry turns around to see the two students appear from around the corner of the rose bush next to him and thunder up the front steps of the castle. 

 

”And ten points from Ravenclaw, too, Stebbins!” Snape calls after them. 

 

”Come on, before he blasts us too”, Harry tells Ron in a quiet undertone and step out of the grotto and into the light of the moon below the front steps. 

 

”Harry”, Snape says in surprise. 

 

They turn around to see the Potions Master, clad in his usual black robes, with his wand twitching at his side. He narrows his eyes at the two of them. Next to him, Karkaroff seems to pull himself to his full height and immediately begins to curl the end of his goatee nervously around a finger.

 

”And… Mr Weasley…” Snape adds, glaring suspisciously at Ron. ”What are you two doing?”

 

”We’re walking”, Ron says curtly. ”Not a crime, is it?”

 

”Just stepped outside for some fresh air, Sir”, Harry says hurriedly, shooting Ron a warning glare. 

 

”Well, on your way then”, Snape says and gives them a dismissive wave. 

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says quickly, grabbing Ron by the hand and dragging him back inside the castle.

 

As they tumble through the doors, they find themselves unexpectedly face to face with Draco and Pansy, and Harry startles as he accidentally locks eyes with the blonde boy, quickly dropping Ron’s hand again. The other Slytherins’ eyes narrow as they glare between the two of them and knowing what it must look like, Harry feels his face heat up and silently curses himself. 

 

”We were just —” he starts to speak, but Draco is already turning away. 

 

He storms back inside the Great Hall and Harry’s voice catches painfully in his throat. Pansy gives him a look of pure loathing, before hurrying after her date and Harry feels himself deflate completely as he stares after them. 

 

Aware of the Gryffindor next to him, Harry sucks in a small breath and tries to compose himself. 

 

”Ehm, maybe not so complicated… anymore…” he mumbles with a half-choked chuckle. 

 

Ron gives him a pained smile when he looks over, which only cements the awfulness of the situation.

 

”Let’s just dance…” he mutters.

 

Ron nods quickly and leads him out onto the dance floor, but as hard as he tries to make Harry laugh and forget about Draco, and as much as Harry himself tries to genuinely have a good time, he can’t shake the regret clawing at him the rest of the night.

 

When the clock chimes half past eleven and he’s saying good night to Ron in the Entrance Hall, he feels extremely relieved. Despite this, he tells Ron he had a really good time — and he does mean it, just not for the majority of the eveing… The Gryffinor gives him a pinched smile and nods.

 

”I’ll see you, I guess…”

 

”Yeah, see you Ron…”

 

Even though Harry can’t wait to collapse into his bed and fall asleep, so that this day will finally be _over,_ he drags his feet as he heads down to the dungeons, dreading the moment when he’ll have to come face to face with Draco again and hoping that, if he takes a long enough time to get to the dorm, the other boy will have already got into bed, and he won’t have to face him until tomorrow…

 

When he enters the dorm, that is exactly the first thing that happens, however: immediately he finds himself in the crossfire of a pair of shuttered, steel grey eyes… until they flit away again, just as suddenly. 

 

And just like every other night in the past week, Harry and Draco avoid eye contact at all cost while they get changed into their pyjamas and they don’t speak a word to each other. Except the silence between them seems both heavier and colder now. 

 

Harry considers breaking it once, but the hard look in the blonde’s eyes stops him.

 

With a forlorn sigh, he climbs into bed and snuggles under the covers before closing the bed hangings around him with a flick of his wand. And for the first time in his life, he actually welcomes the darkness…

 

 


	27. The Second Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just struck me that I have no idea why Seamus ended up in Slytherin in this universe... has anyone reflected over how weird that is?

Harry is the only Slytherin to get up early on Boxing Day. The other boys in his dorm are still sound asleep by the time he sneaks out, even Draco who is usually an early riser. But Harry suspects the blonde _is_ awake and just waiting for Harry to leave, before pulling aside the hangings around bed (which is also the main reason Harry is eager to get out of there.)

 

As much fun as he’d had with Ron during dinner and that first dance the night before, overall the Yule Ball turned into quite the fiasco and his cunning plan to light a fire under Draco by making him jealous, had backfired like the back end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt… Now he just wants to find a quiet corner to lick his burn wounds. Luckily he’s been given special permission to visit Hogsmeade today, so that he can go home and celebrate a late Christmas with his dads — his absolute favourite corner in the world, for wound-licking as well as everything and anything else — and he can’t get out of Hogwarts quickly enough. 

 

It’s eerie walking through the deserted corridors of the castle. Harry has never really seen Hogwarts this empty and silent. Even when he and Draco have snuck out of bed after curfew to go flying or try and break into the Chamber of Secrets, or any of the other adventures they’ve had over the years, they’ve always come across a teacher or a ghost (or a three-headed dog…) but as Harry makes his way out of the dungeon and into the Entrance Hall now, he doesn’t encounter a single soul, living or otherwise…

 

Same goes for Hogsmeade, by the time he reaches the small town. None of the shops have opened for the day yet and the High Street is just as deserted as the road from Hogwarts had been, the fresh blanket of snow still untouched and pure white, and it’s with an almost childish sense of satisfaction that Harry stomps through it, leaving sharp footprints in his wake… throwing a cursory look around, just to make sure he’s still alone, Harry begins taking long leaps to make it look like a really long-legged person has been walking down the street and then, chuckling to himself, he starts to create random patterns instead. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” 

 

He startles halfway through a figure eight and wheels around. Ludo Bagman is coming out of the Three Broomsticks, waving his arm excitedly at Harry. Feeling really stupid at having been caught playing in the snow like a little kid, Harry tries to look as mature as possible as he waves back awkwardly. 

 

Bagman hurries over to him, giving the nearest patterns a politely interested look (much to Harry’s embarrassment.)

 

”Having fun in the snow?” he asks with a knowing grin. ”It’s jolly good fun, isn’t it? I love a good snowball fight, myself!”

 

”Er… Okay…” Harry says. 

 

”Happy Christmas, what!” Bagman adds jovially, clapping his hands together. ”Get any good presents?”

 

”Ehm, I don’t know yet”, Harry says. ”I’m just on my way home now…”

 

He gestures vaguely behind him. Bagman looks over his shoulder in surprise. 

 

”Oh-ho! Your family lives here in Hogsmeade, then? That’s convenient, isn’t it…”

 

”Ehm, yeah, sure…”

 

”Yeah, I’ve been staying in the Three Broomsticks”, he says, nodding. ”Just for a few days, what with the Yule Ball and everything, I’m heading back to London later today… That was fun wasn’t it?” he adds with exaggerated enthusiasm and pins Harry with a wide-eyed look. 

 

”What was?” Harry says faintly. 

 

” _The Ball,_ of course! A real corker, I thought! Had a blast! Some would say a little _too_ much of a blast, but you only live once, that’s my motto! _Eh?_ ” 

 

”Ehm, yeah, sure… I guess…”

 

”So… Great job with that Horntail, Harry!” Bagman continues in the same lighthearted voice, but his eyes become a little more focused somehow and Harry starts to feel like he did when Bagman pulled him aside to offer him illegal pointers before the First Task. 

 

”Thanks”, he mutters. 

 

”Ingenius, I thought! To summon your broom like that, what! And — imagine — Krum never thought of it!”

 

”No”, Harry mumbles.

 

”Well, I was well impressed, Harry and I don’t mind telling you! Superb performance!” his eyes get shifty again, Harry notices and just knows what’s coming. ”Have you… what was I going to say… had a chance to look at that egg, yet? Been too busy preparing for the Ball, I should think—!”

 

He gives out a bark of laughter and Harry forces himself to smile. 

 

”But…” he adds slowly, eyes flitting around their surroundings quickly. ”I meant what I said before, Harry. That was a great job on the Horntail, it really was, but you’re still the underdog in this competition and to tell you the truth I feel bad about all this… how you were thrown into this Tournament and all… and I’ve taken liking to you, I mean… the way you handled that dragon!” he whistles and shakes his head. ”So anything I can do to help, anything at all—”

 

”That’s all right”, Harry says quickly. ”I think I’ve got it almost cracked, couple of more days should do it…”

 

Bagman looks almost disappointed. With another cursory glance around, he leans in closer to Harry and lowers his voice. 

 

”No-one needs to know, Harry…”

 

”We’re supposed to figure the clue out on our own, though… aren’t we, Sir?” Harry asks pointedly. 

 

Bagman jerks back from him again, looking slightly ruffled. 

 

”Well, yes… yes, that’s… that’s true, but… oh come on, Harry! We all want a Hogwarts victory, after all—”

 

”So have you offered Diggory help as well, then?” Harry asks before he can stop himself. 

 

A look of irritation flickers into Bagman’s face, before he forces another grin on there. Except it’s looking less and less like his usual beaming smile and more like he’s experiencing heartburn, Harry thinks. 

 

”Well, like I said, I’ve… I’ve taken a liking to you, Harry, that’s all… just thought I’d ask…”

 

”Thanks”, Harry says again. ”But I think I’ve got it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for lunch with my dads…”

 

For a second it looks as though Bagman is debating with himself over whether to object to this or not, but Harry turns around before he’s made up his mind. 

 

Both his dads come outside to meet him when he walks up the drive to the cottage and he runs up to give them both a hug. Remus nuzzles the side of his head, breathing in his scent as usual and Harry smiles at the familiar sensation. 

 

”We were starting to get worried…” Sirius comments lightly, taking a step back. 

 

Remus takes the opportunity to wrap both arms around Harry and lifts him easily off his feet. Harry chuckles and wraps his legs around his daddy’s waist and clambers close. 

 

”Merlin…” Sirius mumbles. ”I can’t remember the last time I could lift you like that, Harry.”

 

”Being a werewolf has _some_ perks”, Remus comments playfully. 

 

Giving Harry a peck on the forehead, he puts him down on the ground again and the three of them walk inside together. 

 

Harry thinks he heard his dad murmur something else under his breath, but it was too low for him to make out the words. His daddy must have been able to though, because he shoots his husband an exasperated look and blushes a bright pink. 

 

Sirius gives him an unrepentant grin, leaning in to give him a quick but loudly smacking kiss. Harry doesn’t object to it, knowing by now that it will only spur his dad on. Instead he pretends not to have noticed the interaction at all and starts calling for Selina instead. 

 

”How was the ball?” Remus asks him as they enter the kitchen. 

 

Harry blinks at the massive spread on the kitchen table. Remus has outdone himself this year and cooked up a feast to rival that of the Christmas lunch served at Hogwarts. 

 

”I know”, Sirius intones, close to his ear. ”We’ll be eating leftovers ’til New Years…”

 

Harry laughs. 

 

”Harry? The ball?” Remus asks again. 

 

”Oh, yeah, it was… it was fine…” Harry says vaguely, turning away to pat Selina briefly, before taking his seat at the table. 

 

”Just fine?” Remus prods, a note of worry in his voice. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Did you see the _Daily Prophet_ yet today, Harry?” Sirius asks suddenly. 

 

Harry looks up in surprise. Remus is frowning at his husband, but Sirius seems to be ignoring him and keeps his eyes trained on Harry instead. 

 

”No”, he says. ”I came straight here.”

 

”Oh, well… our favourite reporter has found a new subject”, Sirius says grimly. ”Wrote a nice, long piece on Hagrid, saying he’s putting the students in danger during his lessons…”

 

”Well…” Harry says, thinking it’s not a terribly big stretch from the truth. 

 

”Mentioned Draco getting attacked by that hippogriff last year and then went on to say you were dealing with some dangerous creatures right now that he’d bred himself, illegally according to Skeeter, or so she hinted anyway…”

 

”Oh, yeah, the Blast-Ended Skrewts”, Harry mutters darkly. ”Maybe Rita Skeeter isn’t all bad then, if this means Hagrid has to get rid of them now…”

 

”I wouldn’t go that far”, Sirius says. ”She also outed him as part giant… ”

 

Harry frowns in confusion. _That’s hardly_ news _though, is it?_

 

”But… I mean… That’s obvious, isn’t it?” he says uncertainly. 

 

”Yes, Harry”, Remus says patiently. ”But there’s a difference between people assuming something and having it stated in black on white… I don’t think Hagrid is any more eager to tell people he’s half giant, than I am to tell people I’m a werewolf…”

 

”But he told Rita Skeeter”, Harry says. 

 

”Yes, that _is_ weird…” Remus mumbles.

 

”I don’t believe he told her”, Sirius says. ”Not even Hagrid would be that careless…”

 

”Well, he agreed to give an interview anyway”, Harry says. ”She came to our Care Of Magical Creatures lesson and I heard them decide on a time and place for it—”

 

”Rita Skeeter came to one of your lessons?” Remus says sharply. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says, watching his daddy’s angry frown cautiously. ”A few weeks ago, but that’s the last time I’ve seen her at the school.”

 

”All right…” Remus mutters, but the frown stays on his face as he sips his wine thoughtfully. 

 

”If she shows up again, Harry”, Sirius says. ”You let us know, okay?”

 

”Yeah, sure”, Harry nods. 

 

Remus’ eyes flicker over to him again and he puts his wine goblet down in determination. 

 

”Harry… Did something happen at the Ball last night?”

 

Sirius puts his fork down with a clatter and gives the other man a look of exasperation. Remus ignores him. 

 

”No…” Harry mutters, sinking down further in his seat. ”Not exactly…”

 

”You don’t want to talk about it?” Remus says, giving him a kind look. 

 

”Obviously not”, Sirius snaps. 

 

”I believe I asked Harry, not you”, Remus snaps right back. 

 

”Guys, don’t fight”, Harry says hurriedly. ”Nothing happened at the ball. I had a great time with Ron, it just wasn’t…”

 

He trails off with a sigh. 

 

”Wasn’t what, pup?” Remus prompts. 

 

”It wasn’t Draco”, Harry says and shrugs uncomfortably. 

 

”Okay…” Remus says, the last remnants of worry fading from his eyes. ”I understand it’s hard, Harry. But he’ll come around again, you’ll see…”

 

He reaches out and pats the back of Harry’s hand gently. Harry gives him a pinched smile back and nods. He’s not so certain Draco will come around this time, fearing he’s taken things a step too far for the blonde to forgive him — but he doesn’t tell his dads that, because he’s not ready to talk about it yet… 

 

”How’s the egg coming along?” Sirius asks, clearly changing the subject for a second time. 

 

”Can we just…” Harry trails off awkwardly. ”Sorry, but… I just want to enjoy the day with you guys and not have to think about Draco or the Tournament or anything…”

 

”Of course, Harry”, Remus says immediately. 

 

”Besides, I’m getting tired of people trying to help me”, Harry adds. ”I want to at least _try_ and work out the clue by myself. If I can’t, I’ll come to you though, I promi—” 

 

”Who’s been trying to help you?” Remus asks with a frown. 

 

”Who hasn’t”, Harry mutters. ”Mad-Eye Moody gave me the idea to summon my broom in the first task and Ludo Bagman offered to give me pointers right before, and today when I was on my way here, as well — he literally stopped me in the street to help me figure out the egg!” 

 

”Ludo Bagman did?” Remus says. ”But he’s one of the judges, he’s not supposed to be partial —” 

 

”He’s probably got a bet on Harry winning”, Sirius says with a meaningful look. 

 

”I’m not going to win…” Harry mumbles sullenly. ”I don’t know half the spells the others do and I’m half the size of them too… except for Fleur, but she’s still an inch taller than me… I _hate_ being small…” 

 

”You’re not _small_ ”, Remus says firmly. ”You’re just a late bloomer…”

 

”You know James didn’t get his big growth spurt until fifth year”, Sirius adds, beginning to clear the first course off the table. 

 

”Really?” Harry says hopefully. ”James was short when he was my age? How short? Like me?” 

 

”Ehm, yeah, thereabouts… Don’t worry about it. Really.”

 

”And don’t worry about winning the Tournament either—” Remus says sternly.

 

”I know, I know”, Harry says hurriedly. ”I didn’t mean it like that. _I promise…_ ”

 

”Good lad…” Sirius says as he collects his dirty plate and ruffles his hair. 

 

Harry leans out of his reach and swats his hand away, grinning. 

 

”Don’t make it worse”, Remus mutters with a pained look at the bird’s nest on Harry’s head. 

 

”Hardly possible”, Sirius sniggers and gives Harry a playful wink. 

 

Blushing slightly, Harry flattens his hair half-heartedly. But he knows it’s a lost cause. 

 

Then he remembers Granger’s transformation at the Yule Ball. He hadn’t paid her that much attention at the time, more than noticing that she looked different — better — and had merely chalked it up to a nice dress and a straighter posture, what with her spine not being weighed down by that enormous book bag of hers and making her look like half a pretzel… but now that he thinks about it, he remembers her hair being nice and silky as well, as opposed to the frizzy tangle it usually is…

 

”Daddy, is there a spell or something that will make your hair unfrizz? ’Cause Hermione Granger did something to her hair at the ball, it was really nice and flat…”

 

”I don’t know, maybe you could ask her”, Remus suggests kindly, shooting Sirius a warning look when he snorts. 

 

”No, that’s okay…” Harry mumbles. 

 

It’s not _so_ important to him, that he’s willing to have such an embarrassing conversation with _Granger_ of all people. If Pansy was still making an effort to be nice to him, he could have asked her. But as it is, he’ll just have to live with messy hair…

 

After they’ve finished pudding, Remus whips up some hot chocolate that they bring into the lounge so that they can get started on the presents under the tree. He curls up in the corner of the sofa and pulls Harry close to him, then makes Sirius go and fetch the presents, refusing to let go of Harry for the rest of the afternoon.

 

Ever since the first task, Harry has noticed his daddy is even more affectionate and protective than he ever was before, but he doesn’t mind as long as none of his friends are around to see them and take the mick since he quite likes a good cuddle himself. 

 

 

*

 

For the rest of the Christmas holiday there is a severe shift in attitude towards homework amongst the students compared to before the Yule Ball, as the start of spring term gets closer at an alarming speed. 

 

For Harry in particular, time seems to be doing that weird thing again, where it speeds up at random intervals. And since he’s got absolutely nowhere with the golden egg yet, he is feeling the passing of time all the more keenly… February the twenty-fourth seems awfully close all of the sudden, considering it had been ages away only the other day…

 

The rumours about Hagrid being part giant has already spread throughout the castle, but the gamekeeper himself haven’t been spotted since the Yule Ball and when Harry and the other Slytherins make their way down to his hut for their first Care Of Magical Creatures lesson of the spring term, it isn’t the half-giant who is waiting for them but an elderly witch with close-cropped grey hair and a stern expression to rival that of McGonagall’s. 

 

”Hurry up, you lot”, she calls out. ”The bell rang five minutes ago!”

 

Once they have all gathered around her in the snow, the witch tells them her name is Professor Grubbly-Plank and she is their temporary Care Of Magical Creatures teacher while Hagrid is indisposed… She then  leads them around the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses stand shivering in the cold January air, the fumes from their Single Malt Whiskey wafting towards the students as they trudge past and continue towards the edge of the forest, where a unicorn is tethered to a tree. 

 

Harry can’t help but stare in amazement at the creature. He’s seen a unicorn once before, in First Year when he and Draco served their detention with Hagrid in the forest, but that unicorn had been dead already and it was so dark in the forest that he’d barely been able to make it out on the forest floor… not to mention Voldemort himself had been huddled over the creature’s carcass, drinking its blood at the time… this unicorn however is decidedly alive and so white that the snow around it seems almost grey in comparison. 

 

It thrashes its horned head nervously and paws the snowy ground with its golden hooves as they approach.

 

”Boys keep back!” Professor Grubbly-Plank says firmly. ”Unicorn prefer a woman’s touch, so girls to the front and no sudden movements, please…”

 

As the bell rings, the class make their way back to the castle chatting animatedly about what had been a proper Care Of Magical Creatures lesson for once. 

 

”I hope that woman stays!” Pansy says excitedly. 

 

Glancing over at the drawn curtains of Hagrid’ hut, Harry feels a stab of sympathy for the half-giant but he can’t help but to agree with the other Slytherin. As hard as he tries, Hagrid just isn’t in the same league as Professor Grubbly-Plank and the other teachers, and Harry rather stand and stare at a unicorn while the girls get to pat it, than be attacked by Blast-Ended Skrewts any day of the week… 

 

In the days that follows, Snape keeps checking up on Harry and his progress with the golden egg, but he doesn’t offer any actual help. Which is fine with Harry — in fact it’s a nice change from everyone else trying to help him, although as the days pass and he grows more and more desperate, Harry starts to almost resent Snape’s stickler for rules, since he knows that if anyone can help him figure the egg out it’s his Head of House…

 

”Did you open it?” the man asks curtly, when Harry finally brings himself to ask for help.

 

”Of course, I’m not stu—” 

 

”And what happened?” 

 

”Well, it started wailing. It was awfu—” 

 

”Wailing? How?” 

 

”What do you mean _how?”_ Harry snaps. _”_ It made this horrible high-pitched noise—” 

 

”What kind of noise was it?” Snape interrupts.

 

 ” _I don’t know!”_ Harry exclaims in frustration. 

 

”Hm…” Snape says noncommittally.

 

But his eyes are glittering intently and he fixes them on Harry like he’s trying to tell him something… _But what?_

 

Snape huffs out a sigh of exasperation. 

 

”What”, Harry snaps. ”I can’t read minds!”

 

”Nor put two and two together, apparently!” Snape snaps right back. ”Just… Go away, Po- _Harry!_ Go think about what I’ve said —”

 

”You haven’t _said_ anything, you just asked me a bunch of stupid questions—!”

 

”Careful”, Snape murmurs darkly. 

 

”Sorry, Sir…” Harry mutters.

 

There’s another Hogsmeade weekend halfway through January, but Harry decides to stay behind at the castle and work on the egg while he has the dorm to himself. He writes his dads to explain and, although Remus writes back almost instantly saying they completely understand, Harry can almost feel the disappointment oozing from the ink on the parchment. 

 

 _Can’t be helped,_ he thinks briskly and grabs the golden egg from its perch on top of his trunk. 

 

The Second Task is less than five weeks away and considering he’s no closer to figuring the clue out than he was the first time he opened the egg, Harry is going to need every minute of those weeks to work it out. 

 

He flips the latch open and with a _click_ the two empty halves fall apart. The hair-raising wail immediately rings out in the silence of the dorm and Harry’s very skull seems to vibrate from the onslaught. Gritting his teeth, he stares in determination at the hollow centre of the egg and tries to think… 

 

But no matter how long he stares and how hard he listens, Harry just can’t wrap his mind around what the noise is supposed to be; he can’t even work out what the riddle is, let alone the answer to it…

 

Finally, he snaps the halves together again in frustration and hurls the egg across the dorm. It bounces off Crabbe’s bed and smashes against the floor, falling open once more. Letting out a strangled yell, Harry stomps over to if and smacks it shut once more. 

 

But even with the latch firmly in place, Harry’s eyes continue to ring and he rubs the palm of his hands over his forehead, hoping to soothe the burgeoning headache before it blossoms completely…

 

Deciding he needs a break, Harry leaves the egg on top of his bed and makes his way out of the dorm. The Common Room is littered with younger students working away on their homework assignments or playing games, but they all look up when he enters and judging by the looks on their faces, Harry looks just as frustrated as he feels. 

 

He attempts to push the tension out of his face, before smiling kindly at a First Year as he walks past her. But considering the girl cringes back with a startled _eep_ and then tries to hide behind her Transfigurations textbook, he can’t have been too successful. 

 

 _Never mind_ , he thinks surly and ducks out of the Common Room quickly. 

 

He feels twitchy with restlessness and would like nothing better than to go for a spin on his broom, but since he left the dorm in such a hurry and left his Nimbus behind, he decides a walk will have to do. As long as he gets to exercise. Also, the fresh air might help his headache…

 

But as he reaches the ground level and gazes out of the first window he comes across, he can see that it’s partly obscured by snow and that more keeps falling beyond; fat, fluffy flakes of it singling idly past the grey-white of the sky. 

 

 _So much for fresh air,_ Harry thinks with a sigh and decides to walk around indoors instead, turning to trot up the marble staircase. 

 

As he walks, he replays the conversation he had with Professor Snape in his head and tries to figure out what the man had tried to tell him by dissecting what he had _actually_ told him. _But it’s not much to go on, is it,_ he thinks bitterly. The only thing his Head of House had done was to ask him what happened when he opened the egg and then questioned him when he’d told him… _Wailing? How? What kind of noise was it?_

 

His dark eyes had shone with intent, obviously willing Harry to put the pieces together but… _What pieces_ , Harry thinks in frustration. 

 

_I can’t read minds!_

 

_Nor put two and two together, apparently!_

 

He scoffs to himself. _I can put two and two together — two and question mark, on the other hand—!_

 

Wandering into the Tapestry Corridor, he lets himself get distracted for a moment and marvels at the way the different motifs seem to be connected, creating a woven narrative throughout the corridor that he’s never noticed before. Not that he’s really bothered to look that closely at the tapestries when he’d walked through this corridor in the past. Usually he’s rushing past them, late for a lesson or eager to get to dinner. 

 

At the thought of food, his stomach growls eagerly. For a moment he considers paying the house-elves in the kitchen a visit, but then tells himself he can have food once he’s made some progress with the egg _, not_ before… 

 

 _Okay, focus,_ he tells himself sternly and spins on his heel, heading back the same way he came. 

 

Taking a different staircase down to the first floor, Harry finds himself in the corridor outside the library and decides it can’t hurt to do some research, even if he has no idea of where to start — _What kind of noise was it? —_ he sighs, and heads inside.

 

The library is all but empty, save for a couple of studying Second Years and the librarian herself, Madam Pince, who immediately gives him a distrustful look when he enters. 

 

”Hullo…” Harry says politely and watches as the distrustful look is dialled up a notch. ”Do you have any books on — er — noises?”

 

”Noises?” the elderly witch repeats incredulously. 

 

She squints at him as if half expecting the question to be some sort of a diversion tactic to get her away from her desk, so he can steal one of her precious books or smuggle chocolate into the library. 

 

”Yeah, noises”, he says firmly. 

 

”I don’t know of any book on _noises_ ”, Madam Pince says with a finality that suggests that if she doesn’t know of any, they don’t exist. ”I have several on _languages_ …” 

 

”No…” Harry mumbles dejectedly. 

 

He is just about to turn away again, when a memory floats to the forefront of his mind… 

 

Sitting with Draco in the Slytherin Common Room in Second Year, discussing the Chamber of Secrets and the possibility of Harry being Salazar Slytherin’s great-great-great-great-great-etc-grandson… _Say something in parsletongue, go on, please…_ He’d blushed, but also felt a surge of pride as the other boy’s eyes shone with unabashed fascination… 

 

 _Is it really that different from English?_ he’d asked, since he never even noticed the shift when he’d spoken it in Duelling Club… And the blonde had nodded excitedly and… and then he’d made a _hissing noise_ that Harry remembers sent shivers through his body and made the hairs on his arms stand up…

 

_That’s what I sound like?_

 

 _Yeah, basically! I mean, it’s_ snakes’ language _, isn’t it —_

 

For a fraction of a second, Draco’s words seem to echo inside his head now and then he flashes to the aftermath of the Chamber of Secrets when they soared out of the chute with Professor Snape and Dumbledore, and he’d been clutching Draco in one hand and Ginny Weasley in the other as Fawkes pulled them up to safety, landing in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom where Dumbledore then revealed that although he’s not a Parselmouth like Harry, he’s learned to speak certain phrases in parsletongue… _That hissing noise,_ he thinks with pang. _That’s an actual_ language — _so what if…_

 

Spinning back round to face Madam Pince, Harry feels his heart thud excitedly in his chest as he asks her about the book on languages. She gives him an unimpressed look and points to a whole section of the library dedicated to languages. 

 

”All right then…” Harry tells himself. 

 

Squaring his shoulders, he walks over to the Language Section and takes out a book at random. 

 

Two hours later, Harry has flicked through ten different books and his initial excitement has ebbed considerably. 

 

”Was there a language in particular you were looking for?” 

 

He spins around, slightly startled. Madam Pince is peering out at him from her vantage point at the end of the row of bookcases, a toppling pile of books in her arms. The mistrustful squint has left her eyes now, however. If anything, she looks almost kind and Harry wonders how long she’s been spying on him to have concluded he’s handling the books with enough respect… 

 

”Yeah, I think so”, Harry says. ”But I don’t know what it’s called, I just know what it sounds like…”

 

”Mmm”, the elderly witch says and marches past him to the very last bookcase in the Language Section and Harry follows gingerly. ”Have a look at this one…”

 

She nods at a rather thin book bound in blue leather. Harry wiggles it out from its position on the shelf and opens it to the first page. It looks like a dictionary, but instead of words it seems to be listing different languages. 

 

”You tap the language you wish to study with your wand and then, speaking very clearly, say the sentence you wish to hear said in that particular language… You’ll have to check it out first, though. Some of the languages are quite… loud…” she mutters. 

 

Harry stares at the librarian, hardly daring to believe what she’s telling him even as excitement flares once more inside his chest; this might be the key to figuring out the egg!

 

He bounces slightly on the balls of his feet as he waits impatiently for her to check the book out for him and as soon as it’s back in his hand he legs it out of the library and doesn’t so much as slow down until he’s back inside the Slytherin Common Room. 

 

Studying the Table of Contents at the beginning of the book more clearly, Harry lets out a small _hah_ of triumph as he realises the book is even divided into sections separating _human languages_ from _creature languages_ , making it even easier for him to navigate the thousands of languages featured in the book. 

 

Flicking past the human languages eagerly, he begins to tap the creature languages with his wand, one at the time, and instructing the book to give him examples of what they sound like by giving it random sentences like _’I love treacle tart’_ and _’Pansy is a meddling cow’_ then laughs giddily when they’re (presumably) repeated back to him in strings of weird sounds. 

 

He’s actually enjoying himself so thoroughly that, when the book suddenly lets out very familiar screeching wail, it startles him so much he drops the book to the floor. 

 

Heart thudding in his chest, Harry stares at the book on the floor between his feet… _That was it… That’s the noise the egg makes…_ Bending to pick the book back up with trembling fingers, Harry quickly flicks to the correct page and skims down to where he’d left off… _Mermish (above water)_

 

Harry frowns at the parentheses and then glances quickly at the next language listed by the book — _Mermish (under water) —_ his heart seems to skip a beat, as the pieces start to fit together slowly… Tapping the book with his wand again, Harry says ”Draco is pretty” once more and then waits with bated breath…

 

”Draco is pretty”, the book repeats in perfect English, albeit with a slightly eerie tremor.

 

Harry almost drops the book again. 

 

Mind whirring frantically, Harry scrambles to his feet and runs into the dorm. He grabs the golden egg and then, as an after thought, he digs a towel out of his trunk as well, before hurrying back out again. 

 

The Slytherin boys’ bathrooms are at the very end of the dungeon corridor and completely empty when Harry enters. The dim light from the wall lanterns bounces off the green tiles and gives the impression that the room is made out of emeralds which is one of the reasons Harry has always liked it in here, especially early in the morning before you’ve become accustomed to the light of day… also, the shower stalls are roomy without compromising their privacy and the showers themselves have the perfect water pressure…

 

Eyeing the shower stalls now however, Harry doubts whether they’ll be able to help him listen to the egg. Instead he makes his way over to the bathtub in the corner and begins to fill it up. He’s always thought this tub was quite large, but looking at it now Harry wonders if he’ll be able to contort himself enough to submerge himself in the water and still fit the wide open egg under there with him… 

 

 _Only one way to find out,_ he thinks and begins to strip. 

 

He lets the tub fill almost to the rim, thinking he’s going to need all the water he can fit in there. 

 

Then climbing inside the tub gingerly and hissing as the hot water scalds his skin, Harry lowers himself slowly into the water. When he’s finally sitting down, he reaches over the edge of the tub and grabs the egg from the floor. Holding it securely in both hands, he begins to slowly but steadily inch down the length of the tub until he’s lying back in the hot water with his jutting chin grazing the water surface… 

 

Then taking a deep breath, he dunks his head completely underwater and flips over onto his side (banging his knees against the side of the tub in the process) and fits the egg between the inner wall of the tub and his chest, before snapping the latch open… 

 

The two hollow halves come apart, however reluctantly due to the resistance of the water on either side, but it doesn’t matter because as soon as a crack appears, a loud noise springs forth and it’s not the screechy wail that Harry has come to expect from the egg at all… Instead, what is clearly a chorus of _several_ voices, all of them eerie and almost echoing, begins to sing…

 

_”Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_we cannot sing above the ground,_

_and while you’re searching, ponder this:_

_we’ve taken…”_

 

Lungs screaming for air, Harry finally has to sit up again and he sucks in a deep breath desperately. His heart is pounding. _I’ve cracked it — I’ve solved the egg, and all by himself —!_

 

 _Well,_ he amends, looking at the bubbles floating from the still open egg as it continues to sing. _I’ve solved the first part anyway…_

 

Harry stays in the bathtub until the water has gone cold, patiently dunking his head underwater and holding his breath while he listens to the song, that seems to be on a loop, until he’s finally heard the whole thing and memorised it. 

 

 

_Come seek us where our voices sound_

_We cannot sing above the ground_

_and while you’re searching, ponder this:_

_we’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss._

_An hour long you’ll have to look_

_and to recover what we took._

_But past an hour — the prospect’s black;_

_too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back._

 

 

 _So that’s it,_ he thinks excitedly. 

 

The Second Task is to go find these underwater creatures who can’t sing above water (merpeople, clearly!) But he already knew that… That’s how he know how to put the egg underwater in the first place — 

 

Shivering violently and really noticing how cold the water has got for the first time, Harry climbs out of the bathtub and wraps the towel around himself and tries to rub some feeling back into his arms while his thoughts keep whirring frantically in his head, flitting back and forth so fast they finally end up going round in circles… 

 

 _Okay, focus,_ he tells himself sternly. _Where can I find merpeople? — the Dark Lake?_

 

That seems the most logical answer, since Harry doubts the organisers of the Triwizard Tournament would go so far as to arrange a task outside the grounds of Hogwarts and then transport the champions and the whole audience to a different location… 

 

 _So…_ Harry thinks faintly, vaguely distracted by the clattering sound of his own teeth shattering. _So that’s it. I’ll have to go into the lake and… and… and I’ll have an hour to recover something the merpeople have taken from me —_

 

Even as he thinks this, the last of Harry’s excitement drains out of him and he looks up at his own reflection in dismay… _An hour… under water…_

 

A small gasp behind him, makes Harry startle and he spins around. 

 

Draco is standing just inside the doorway, clutching a neatly folded green towel and his pink and silver toiletry bag to his chest and scrunching up his face in a look of pain as he exhales sharply, his breath shooting out in a _whoosh_ that seems to echo inside the bathroom. 

 

”You scared me”, he mutters, opening his eyes again and giving Harry a half-hearted glare. 

 

” _You_ scared _me_ ”, Harry counters petulantly, before he can stop himself. 

 

They stand there blinking at each other owlishly for a moment, before the realisation that they’re actually acknowledging each other’s existence plummets on top of them like a wet blanket and they both wrench their eyes away and glare at opposing walls.

 

”I was just leaving”, Harry mumbles after another awkward moment of silence. 

 

When Draco doesn’t say anything, or give him any sign that he’s even heard him, Harry snatches the golden egg from the bottom of the tub. The wail fills the room for about half a second while he drains the egg of water, before it’s cut off abruptly when he snaps it shut. 

 

Then without another word to the blonde, Harry leaves the bathroom as quickly as his feet will carry him and still not slip from underneath him on the wet tiles. 

 

Harry had thought that once he’d worked out the clue, he’d be all set for the Second Task. But it turns out that working out the clue just opened up a whole other jar of problems… Like breathing under water for _an hour_ … Now he really wishes he hadn’t left the egg to the last minute. He spends every waking moment mulling it over in the next few days — and some sleeping moments as well, since his dreams have started to feature dark waters as an on-going theme. 

 

Usually they start inside the Slytherin boys’ bathroom or on his four-poster bed, with Draco emerging from the shadows and kissing him deeply, only to be swept away from him as the window behind him breaks and the water from the Dark Lake rushes in and floods the whole dorm or, if they’re in the bathroom the green tiles suddenly turn to murky water that pours down on top of them from all sides as the bathroom collapses around them… 

 

Harry then spends the rest of the dream-turned-nightmare swimming through seaweed, searching desperately for Draco as his lungs are screaming for air. Just before he loses consciousness, he catches sight of the other boy’s pale body in the distance — and then he wakes up in a cold sweat. 

 

He’s so obsessed with coming up with a solution it is beginning to interfere with his school work and the teachers have started to notice. Both Professor Snape and McGonagall have approached him about it twice and now even Professor Flitwick is throwing him worried glances… They’re practising the opposite of the Summoning Charm Harry learned for the First Task and despite the principle being the same and Professor Flitwick hinting at the beginning of the lesson that Harry ought to get the hang of it in no time, Harry is so distracted that his cushions keep bouncing off the walls and windows instead of landing inside the designated box where they’re supposed to… 

 

But at least he’s managing to hit the cushions, he tells himself. Longbottom’s aim is so bad he’s sent Professor Flitwick across the room twice already. 

 

 

*

 

When the Second Task is less than two weeks away, Harry seeks refuge inside the dusty library at every available opportunity between classes, at lunchtimes, every evening and the whole weekends, and when there’s only four days left he even starts to skive off Divination, Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic. 

 

Several times he debates with himself whether he should write to his dads and ask them for help, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to… just picturing their alarm and disappointment at finding out he’s let things get this far, that he’s waited this long to reach out to them when he’d explicitly promised them he would ask for help as soon as he needed it. 

 

And if he asks them now and they can’t help him, because he hasn’t given them enough time, that will not only send them into a panic but it will also make them blame themselves for his failure… So instead, he buries himself amongst the thousands and thousands of books inside the Hogwarts library and pours over any and every book that could possibly help him think of a way to survive for an hour without oxygen. 

 

Finally on the evening of the twenty-third, Harry smuggles his Invisibility Cloak into the Library, just in case he’ll need to stay past the prompt closing time at eight o’clock, and it turns out he’d been right to do so because he’s no closer to finding an answer at eight o’clock than he’d been two weeks ago… Quickly draping the Cloak over himself, he continues to pour over _Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do With Them Now You’ve Wised Up_ —

 

Startled awake as someone shakes his shoulder roughly, Harry sits up in a panic and the Invisibility Cloak that had been hanging from his arm falls to the floor. 

 

Pale morning light is pouring through the window and Harry heart stutters in his chest — it’s morning already, he’s out of time — and as he blinks the sleep furiously from his eyes, Professor Snape’s scowling face comes into view above him. 

 

”What…” Harry croaks faintly as panic begins to course through him. 

 

”It’s twenty past”, the man snarls and pulls him up roughly by the arm. ”You’re late for the task!”

 

Harry’s heart plummets like boulder. It’s too late. He’s failed —

 

”Come _on_ …” Snape urges and continues to pull on his arm. 

 

Harry automatically bends down and snatches the Invisibility Cloak from the floor, before stumbling after his Head of House. He means to tell him there’s no point, he’ll have to forfeit the Second Task anyway… but the words don’t seem to want to form on his tongue. 

 

”Let’s _go_ …” the man hisses impatiently.

 

”But —” 

 

Snape propels him around and pushes him out of the library. Harry stumbles forward, nearly tripping over the Invisibility Cloak hanging from his hand and falling flat on his face, but Professor Snape catches him and holds him up until he finds his feet again. 

 

He tries to catch the professor’s eyes, but the man is stubbornly staring straight ahead as he continues to push and prod Harry towards the Entrance Hall and then past a few curiously goggling last-minute stragglers out of the large oak doors and onto the lawn. 

 

The sight of the dark waters of the lake reflecting the grey clouds overhead and lapping rhythmically at the shore, makes Harry’s chest feel impossibly tight.

 

”Wait —” he says, digging his heels in as he tries to twist out of the professor’s grip.

 

”There’s _no time_ ”, Snape snaps and then before Harry can say anything else, he’s shoved something slimy and rubbery into his hand, adding in an undertone, ”Eat it. Just before you dive into the water. Now, _let’s go_ …”

 

As they get closer to the lake, Harry can see that the gold-draped judges table has been set up along the water’s edge on this side whereas the seats that had encircled the dragon’s enclosure during the First Task have been stacked into high stands along the opposite shore. Most of the students are already seated and chatting excitedly, but a few are standing on this side of the lake still.

 

A few of the students from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are clustered around Fleur and Krum, giving them smiles of encouragement while they talk quietly, and the familiar group of Hufflepuffs that always seem to surround Diggory are huddled around him now as well, clapping him on the back. 

 

And, Harry notices with a thrill, his own friends are standing there as well, waiting for him. He can see Seamus and Theodore break out inte a set of matching grins and Blaise smirk coolly as they notice him approach… _but no Draco…_

 

They reach the judges’ table and Professor Snape finally lets go of Harry’s arm and he stumbles forward, splashing mud all over the Beauxbatons’ robes as he stomps to a stop next to them. 

 

”Thank you, Severus”, Dumbledore says lightly, his eyes twinkling at the Potions Master over the rim of his spectacles for a second before flitting to Harry. ”We were beginning to worry…”

 

”Heya Harry…” Seamus says with a barely suppressed snicker as he sidles up to him. 

 

”Shut up…” Harry mutters, blushing slightly as he throws an apologetic look at the affronted French students. 

 

His heart is pounding furiously in his chest and the slimy stuff Professor Snape gave him seems to be melting  inside his fist. 

 

Even though he hadn’t _really_ expected Draco to show up, as Harry looks between his friends’ faces, the blonde’s absence still hits him like a slap to the face. 

 

Ludo Bagman appears at his shoulder suddenly and whisks him away, steering him into position along the water’s edge ten feet from Krum. Harry can tell the older boy’s eyes are hard with focus and he’s got his wand clutched tightly in his hand, ready at his side. 

 

” _Sonorous!_ ” Bagman says, pointing his own wand at his throat before addressing the crowd on the other side of the lake. ”Well, all the champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle! They have precisely one hour to recover the thing they will miss the most, which has been taken from them… on the count of three, then…”

 

Harry glances over at Professor Snape desperately. The man gives him a curt nod, his face calm and composed. It settles some of Harry’s nerves, at least. And he takes a deep breath and releases it in a shaky whoosh. 

 

”… one… two… _three!_ ”

 

The sharp screech of the whistle cuts through the chilly February air and Harry’s heart leaps into his throat. Next to him, Krum points his wand at himself and Harry just has time to see his entire head begin to contort as he transfigures himself into a shark, before he whips his head around and stares in determination at the deceptively calm surface of the lake. 

 

Shoving the slimy stuff into his mouth, he clamps his mouth shut to prevent it from shooting out of him again as he gags, then hurriedly toes off his shoes. Then bending quickly, he pulls the socks off his feet and wades out into the lake. He chews mechanically, trying not to focus too much on the salty taste or what the rubbery consistency reminds him off. 

 

The ice cold water soaks into his robes and they begin to weigh him down. When he’s knee deep in the water, his numb feet slip over the rocks underneath him and he crumples ungracefully and begins to paddle jerkily. Shivering violently, he swallows the slimy stuff convulsively and waits anxiously for something to happen… 

 

Then suddenly he feels like an invisible hand has clamped over his nose and mouth and no matter how hard he tries to suck some air into his lungs, nothing happens… 

 

Panic surges inside of him and just when he thinks he’s about to faint, he experiences a searing pain on either side of his neck. Clutching at the skin desperately, Harry feels two sets of gashes on either side of his neck and for a split second he thinks the slimy, rubbery stuff has somehow exploded out of his throat and left these gaping wounds in its wake… but then it hits him: _he’s got gills!_

 

Acting on pure instinct, Harry lunges head-first into the water and as he’s submerged in the depths of the lake, something incredible happens… the temperature of the water doesn’t feel cold as ice anymore, but rather pleasantly cool and as he gulps in a mouthful of water, he feels it pass through his new gills and as the oxygen is passed to his brain, his mind begins to clear again. 

 

But that’s not all… when Harry stretches his arms out in front of him, he can see his fingers connected to each other with webbing. Twisting his body around, Harry can see that his feet have grown longer and become flattened and webbed as well, almost like fins… flapping them experimentally, Harry is thrilled to realise how much stronger this new addition makes him and how fast he can now swim through the water. 

 

Not wishing to waste any more time, Harry begins to swim towards the centre of the lake until he can no longer see the bottom or the shore in any direction. Then he dives into the dark depths. 

 

As eerie as the heavy silence is, something about the murky green light feels like home to Harry… after all, this is the light he wakes up to every morning in his dorm, the window next to his four-poster bed facing the very same depths that he’s now exploring. 

 

Swimming across what can only be described as a small forest of two foot long weeds, Harry keeps his eyes wide open and peeled for merpeople and the giant squid in particular, but also whatever possession of his that the organisers of the Tournament might have stolen from him and planted in the lake… _the thing they’ll miss the most,_ Bagman had said… Could it be his Nimbus Two Thousand? 

 

 _It can’t be Hedwig or Selina,_ he tells himself even as his pulse gives a frantic flutter at the thought. They can’t have put a living animal in the lake, that’s just cruel — besides, how would they be able to survive for an hour underwater? 

 

Unless they’d been given the same stuff that Professor Snape had given _him —_

 

Seized unexpectedly by the ankle, Harry lets out a startled yell but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is one large bubble. Twisting around in a panic as whatever’s got his ankle in a firm grip begins to tug him into the weeds, Harry spots the sharp-fanged mouth of a Grindylow gaping up at him… Fumbling frantically inside his wet robes, Harry scrambles to grab his wand with his webbed fingers and by the time he’s got a firm grip on it, more Grindylows have appeared all around him, their long fingers clutching his limbs and pulling him deeper and deeper into the weeds…

 

”Relashio!” he shouts, pointing his wand at the Grindylow holding his ankle, but again no sound comes out. 

 

Instead, another bubble blossoms from his mouth, but the spell seems to have worked anyway. Although instead of the sparks he’d meant to shoot at the water demon, a jet of boiling water streams forth and burns the Grindylows green skin. 

 

Kicking furiously while sending more jets of boiling water around him at random, Harry finally manages to break free and swims clear of the Grindylows. 

 

Unsure of how much time has passed but aware that he spent at least a quarter of his allotted hour fighting the Grindylows, Harry feels a paradoxically calm sense of panic set in and pocketing his wand again, he begins to swim in earnest. 

 

Finally he hears something.

 

Soft but clear in the dense silence of the lake, he can make out snippets of musical notes — as he continues to swim towards the sound, he begins to recognise the song from the golden egg, except sung by even more voices now and twice as eerie in this underwater setting, _”… an hour long you’ll have to look, and recover what we took…”_

 

 _Yeah, yeah, yeah,_ Harry thinks and swims faster. 

 

” _Your time’s half gone, so tarry not —_ ”

 

 _Wait, what,_ Harry thinks listening more closely…

 

” _Lest what you seek stays here to rot…_ ”

 

Suddenly a large shape emerges from the gloom in front of Harry and his heart lurches, as he thinks he might have encountered the giant squid after all… But it’s not the giant squid. It’s not even a living thing. It’s several stones stacked together to make some sort of buildings and with a jolt, Harry realises he’s reached the merpeople finally. 

 

And sure enough, in a few of the dark windows he can make our faces staring at him. They don’t look at all like any mermaids he’s seen in books or paintings… Their skin is a sickly grey and their long, wild hair a dark green colour which reminds him of the weeds the Grindylows tried to drag him into. Their eyes as well as their broken and uneven teeth are yellow, whereas their fishtails, he notices as a few ventured outside their dwellings to get a better look at him, are silver. 

 

As he continues to speed forward, more and more stone houses emerge from the gloom and soon he finds himself in the heart of the merpeople’s village and there, at the very centre, in what must be the village square, in front of a large statue of a merperson, floats the choir of merpeople guiding the champions to them with their song… 

 

 _This is it,_ Harry thinks as he swims closer to the choir and looks around apprehensively, searching for a familiar object but seeing nothing but more and more merpeople watching him curiously, whispering amongst themselves and pointing at his webbed hands and feet. 

 

 _Do I ask them,_ he thinks uncertainly as the merpeople seem to be closing in on him. 

 

But then he sees it. 

 

Behind the choir, tied to the long tail of the statue: four figures, four _people_ —

 

And no sooner has this realisation hit Harry than he spots the white-blonde hair flowing around the head of the figure on the far left. Heart stuttering in his chest, Harry gapes in horror, his shout of alarm emerging silently from his mouth in yet another perfectly round bubble that floats away and disappears into the gloom above him. 

 

Speeding forward, Harry more or less crashes into Draco’s lifeless body and grabs his head as it rolls from one shoulder to the other, clutching it tight and giving it a firm shake from side to side… Nothing happens. The other boy’s eyes remain shut. For one heart-stopping moment Harry actually believes him to be dead, until he sees a stream of tiny bubbles squeeze out of the corner of his mouth and trail up his face and float away into the gloom. Just to be sure, he shoves his fingers under the boy’s jaws… _there,_ he thinks in relief. It’s soft, but he can definitely feel the patter of a pulse. 

 

 _Okay,_ he thinks frantically. _Okay, it’s okay, he’s okay, I just have to get him to the surface and… and… yeah…_

 

He claws at the ropes cutting into the other boy’s body, pulling on it to test their strength. To his dismay, they seem to be quite strong indeed. There’s no way he’ll be able to tear them apart.

 

Looking around desperately, his gaze lands on the spear in one of the merpeople’s hands and he swims over and points to it with a hopeful look. 

 

”We do not help”, the merman says in a croaky voice, leering so that Harry gets a good look at all of his yellow, jagged teeth. 

 

Feeling a surge of frustration, Harry tries to grab the spear from him anyway and nearly gets impaled for his troubles. 

 

 _Fine_ , he thinks surlishly and looks around for something else… _something sharp… anything…_

 

Spotting a particularly sharp rock on the lake bottom beneath him, he dives and grabs it before hurrying over to Draco again. He swims around to the back of the statue and begins to hack at the ropes. It’s frustrating work, with the water slowing his movements, but finally the ropes snap apart and Draco’s limp body begins to fall away slowly from the statue. 

 

Harry swims back around and grabs the other boy’s arm, looping it around his own shoulder before him firmly by the waist. As soon as he’s got him in a secure grip, he begins to swim towards the surface. It’s a lot more work and takes him twice as long since can no longer use his hands, but he kicks furiously until his legs feel numb… 

 

In fact his whole body is numbing rapidly, the water getting colder and colder around him, pushing painfully on his skull and stinging his throat… but it’s not until he feels a searing pain on either side of his neck again, that he realises what’s happening: the effects of whatever Snape gave him is wearing off…

 

Aware of merpeople still surrounding him, leering and watching him struggle with shining eyes, as they rise towards the surface with him and Draco, Harry begins to worry about what will happen when he runs out of time… if he doesn’t make it to the surface before the hour is up, will they seize him and Draco and pull them back down again? will they be held captive in the depths of the lake until they suffocate and drown? will their bodies rot at the bottom of the lake, just like the merpeople sang in their stupid song?

 

Just as the pain on his neck subsides and his lungs start to smart instead, Harry sees the daylight above him and with a final surge of hope propelling him forward, he kicks his numb and uselessly unwebbed feet as hard as he can —

 

It’s the weirdest sensation; as if hanging upside-down in the crisp February air before being lowered head-first into ice cold water, Harry feels like someone has suddenly dumped a bucket of fresh air over him, as his head breaks through the surface… Gulping desperately, he sucks in a lungful of it and splutters. 

 

The air seems to have broken whatever magic had put Draco to sleep as well, because he immediately tenses in Harry’s arms and begins to twitch and splash in a panic even before his eyes have regained their focus and he’s realised where he is… The entire audience seems to be on their feet, cheering and clapping madly and Harry can see the judges rise to their feet as well. 

 

”Are you… ok-kay…?” he gasps, peering over at the splashing blonde worriedly. 

 

”Y-Yeah, I… I… th-think… so”, the other boy stutters, his teeth chattering even worse than Harry’s and he continues to cling to Harry desperately. 

 

”Y-Y-You … d-don’t know… how t-t-to… swim…?”

 

The blonde simply shakes his head, his wild eyes darting between the leering faces of the merpeople all around them and Harry’s face. 

 

”…’s ok-k-kay… I’ve… got-t-t… you”, Harry mumbles, tightening his hold on the other boy’s body and resuming his kicking with determination. 

 

When they’re two hundred yards from the shore, Sirius wades out to meet them. He loops an arm around Draco’s waist and smoothly transfers the boy’s weight from Harry to himself, dragging him towards the shore and Harry feels a surge of relief and gratitude as his numb limbs barely have enough strength left in them to carry his weight out of the water, let alone the combined weight of himself and Draco and it would have been extremely embarrassing if he would have collapsed this close to the finish line… 

 

As they reach the shore, Remus wraps big fluffy blankets around both of them, then sits with Harry and rubs his arms furiously until they start to fill up with blood again. Weirdly enough, the stronger the sensation of pins and needles in his arms get, the more violently Harry shakes… 

 

Professor Snape thrusts a phial of Pepper-Up Potion in each of Harry’s and Draco’s shaky hands and gives them strict instructions to drink up. The hot liquid burns all the way down Harry’s throat and into his stomach and he can feel himself warm up immediately. Coughing in the steam that billows from his ears, Harry looks around to see how the other champions are faring, but it looks as though he is the first one out of the lake.

 

Sirius claps Draco awkwardly on the back through the blanket, then gratefully steps aside to let Professor Snape take over and rub the boy’s back in much the same way that Remus is rubbing Harry. There’s a tension in the air, Harry notices… even with the crowd cheering all around them and the judges beaming, Harry’s dads and Head of House look anything byt happy. 

 

Harry peers up into his daddy’s face. Remus says nothing, just keeps rubbing Harry’s arms and back through the blanket while staring straight ahead at the deceptively calm surface of the lake, but his face is drawn and the look in his eyes is almost haunted. 

 

There’s another roar of cheers from the audience and Harry turns to see Krum’s transfigured shark head break through the surface of the water, his untransfigured arm wrapped securely around Granger’s chest as he pulls her towards the shore. Karkaroff leaps up from his seat at the judges table and runs to meet his star student, wrapping a blanket around him fussily, but ignoring Granger completely. Krum removes the blanket from around his shoulders immediately and offers it to the Gryffindor girl, much to Karkaroff’s annoyance.

 

Within moments, Diggory and Fleur have swam ashore as well. Diggory with an arm around Cho Chang, but Fleur empty-handed and quite hysterical, as she had to leave her hostage at the bottom of the lake when she couldn’t get past the Grindylows… Madam Maxime restrains her and tries to calm her down, but the girl doesn’t stop fighting her until one of the merpeople bring her hostage to the shore. It’s a young girl with similarly long, blonde hair as Fleur herself and Harry thinks it must be the Beauxbatons champion’s little sister. 

 

”All right, ladies and gentlemen…” Bagman’s magically enhanced voice booms over the ruckus of the audience. ”Now that all four champions have completed the Task and the judges have conferred, it is time to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions… Miss Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of a Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by Grindylows as she approached her goal and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points… Mr Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect and although he was one minute outside the time limit, he was the first to return with his hostage and we therefore award him forty-seven points…”

 

Feeling a thrill of excitement and pride, Harry turns to smile at his daddy, but Remus is still staring at the lake and looking anything but pleased… Sirius however crouches down next to Harry and gives him an encourageing smile and a wink, before thumping him on the back. 

 

”… Mr Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration”, Bagman continues. ”Which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points… And finally, Mr Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm to great effect, returned with his hostage but well outside of the time limit, so we award him forty points!… The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June and the champions will be notified of what is coming exactly one month before. Thank you all for your support of the champions!”

 

”I can’t believe it”, Sirius mutters. ”You’re in the lead Harry!”

 

”Yeah…” Harry breathes, hardly believing it himself… _it’s over… I did it…_

 

”How are you feeling, Harry?” Remus asks him in an undertone, finally tearing his eyes away from the lake to look into Harry’s face. ”Do you need some more Pepper-Up?”

 

”No, I’m okay”, Harry says. ”I just want to get inside…”

 

Remus nods quickly, standing up and pulling Harry up with him. Sirius falls into step with them on Harry’s other side and Harry catches him grin proudly, before Remus gives him a stern look. 

 

Twisting around slightly, Harry looks around for Draco. Professor Snape keeps his arm around the blonde’s shoulders and the two of them stand as well, following Harry and his dads towards the castle. Draco’s eyes flicker up and lock with Harry’s for a second and Harry feels his insides squirm as the shuttered look in the blonde’s face registers… Not being able to read the other boy’s feelings, when his own has been ruthlessly and publicly exposed makes Harry feel vulnerable and at a significant disadvantage; he feels like his chest has been slit open and his heart put on public display, whereas Draco gets to keep his feelings close to his chest as always.

 

Later in the afternoon, he hugs his dads good bye and returns to the Slytherin Common Room and as he enters, a tense hush settles over the other students and they look between Draco and Harry awkwardly as they stand on opposite sides of the circular room, eyeing each other uncertainly… It makes Harry feel itchy and irritated, and he’s just about to turn away and go hide in the dorm, when Draco finally caves and blurts out, ”I’m sorry!”

 

Harry blinks, and shifts his weight uncertainly from one leg to the other. 

 

”I’ve been an idiot”, Draco adds thickly. ”I’ll — I’ll stand up to my parents, okay? If you… If you’ll… have me back, that is…”

 

The tension in the room thickens further and Harry feels the prickle of almost seventy sidelong gazes fall on him as the other Slytherins wait for his reaction, which only aggravates the itchy sensation Harry experiences but as he peers up at the blonde’s face and notices the sheen of unshed tears in his grey eyes, he also feels an overwhelming sense of relief and love…

 

”Of course I will”, he mutters. ”I mean it’s not exactly a secret how I feel about you… anymore…”

 

Draco lets out a breathy chuckle and nods. Then killing the distance between them in five quick strides, he throws his arms around Harry and hugs him tightly.

 

There is a smatter of applause and catcalls around them. Someone yells _Finally_ and Seamus says, ”Does that mean we can celebrate now?”

 

”Yes, _please!_ ” Harry exclaims, to the amusement of the other Slytherins. 

 

Unearthing a staggering amount of firewhiskey bottles and treats knicked from the kitchen, Seamus gets the party started in less than two seconds and Blaise tunes the Wireless until a Weird Sisters song can be heard. 

 

As if making up for lost time, Draco plasters himself to Harry’s side for the rest of the evening, even as they talk to different people, but Harry doesn’t mind the warmth of the other boy’s body along his side at all but rather welcomes it. Especially after spending an hour in the ice cold waters of the Dark Lake.

 

The party is finally broken up at midnight when Professor Snape marches in wearing a long, grey nightshirt and looking particularly flustered. 

 

Seamus tries to persuade their Head of House to let them stay up a little longer and even has the gall to invite him to stay for a drink, but the Potions Master merely shoots him an unimpressed look. 

 

”I will pretend I didn’t hear that, Finnigan… and speaking of drinks, that had better be pumpkin juice…” 

 

”Er…” 

 

”Off to bed, all of you!” Snape barks. ”And anyone who happens to _accidentally oversleep_ or wakes up feeling _under the weather_ in the morning, will be serving detention every night for a week!”

 

Harry goes to bed with a huge grin on his face and is just drifting off to sleep when the bed dips next to him and startles him awake again. He just has time to see a flash of blonde hair in the gloom, before his lips are captured in a searing kiss and a warm body is pressed flush against his own.

 

Nestling his fingers in Draco’s soft hair, Harry kisses back eagerly. He is acutely aware of the other boy’s hard-on poking him in the hip and shifts a little to align it with his own… Draco sucks in a small gasp and Harry quickly chases it, eager to lap up any noises that might escape from the other boy. 

 

Finally they break apart for air, both panting softly as they stare at each other in the dim light spilling in from a nearby wall lantern through a crack in the bed hangings… Remembering the other boy’s deathly pale and unconscious face at the bottom of the lake, Harry is gripped by an overwhelming need to reassure himself that Draco is in fact alive and well, and _here_ , and _his_ … he cups the other boy’s face in his hands and gently caresses his cheekbones with his thumbs, and smiles softly at the awed and almost alarmed expression on the other boy’s face. 

 

”What are you thinking?” Harry whispers. 

 

Clearly unable to find his voice, Draco just swallows a couple of times and shakes his head. His eyes shine silver in the gloom and just as Harry leans in to cover his mouth once more with his own, a small tear seeps into the line of lashes underneath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly had to hold a small memorial service to myself after Killing The Darling that is the scene with Snape and Filch arguing over the egg while Harry is stuck in the staircase under the invisibility cloak (and Moody covers for him.) I LOVE that scene… Just picturing Snape in his grey nightshirt, hair tousled, and getting all ruffled while Filch misses the mark completely and continues to bitch about Peeves, so they're basically having two completely different conversations… Makes me laugh every time I read the book!... Unfortunately it didn’t make any sense to keep the scene in this Universe…
> 
> Also, I promise the boys will not fight or break up again in this fic (they might bicker a bit), but there will be other drama and angst. And cliffhangers. (Sorry, not sorry) ;)


	28. Unwanted talks & even more unwanted mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wake up to catcalls and applause...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly short chapter this time. Enjoy the cringe-giggles (you'll see what I mean) ;)

They wake up to catcalls and applause. Blushing furiously they sit up, grinning shyly at each other as their friends lob pillows at their heads and sing taunting love songs. But as embarrassing as it is, Harry can’t bring himself to be bothered because he hasn’t been this happy in quite a while…

 

He peers over at Draco and catches the small smile on the other boy’s face, even as his cheeks burn an adorable pink. He swats Seamus’ pillow from the air before it hits him in the shoulder and lobs it right back. 

 

”It’s so unfair”, Seamus wails, but it’s almost immediately broken up by a half-suppressed cackle. ”If the two of _you_ can get laid, with those ugly mugs…”

 

”Who said anything about getting laid?” Draco mumbles, his blush deepening. 

 

Everyone ignores him, except for Blaise who rolls his eyes subtly.

 

”I’m like the only Slytherin boy above Third Year _not_ getting any”, Seamus continues to whine. 

 

”Because your ugly mug is the _least_ of your problems”, Blaise tells the Irish boy, then whacks him in the face with his pyjama bottoms. 

 

”Oi —!” Seamus yelps, flinching so dramatically he almost topples backwards off his bed. ”You nearly took my eye out!”

 

”Well, even if that _could_ only _improve_ your face, there’s still your _personality_ …”

 

The others snicker and Harry joins in whole-heartedly. It’s unbelievable, really… less than twenty-four hours ago, panic was rushing through his system like a _Titillando Curse_ and he’d been sure he was about to drown in front of a live audience, before having the chance to make up with Draco, and now… He looks over at the blonde’s face again and grins happily at the shy, but sly smile he can see there. As if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Draco’s gaze flickers over to meet them and the smile softens slightly. 

 

”You guys are disgusting”, Blaise says flatly. ”Stop mooning over each other before I throw up…”

 

”Shut up, Zabini”, Harry snaps good-naturedly. 

 

It turns out, however, that Blaise isn’t the only one to be disturbed over the amount of shy glances and secretive smiles shared by Harry and Draco this morning, because Professor Snape takes one look at them as they enter the Potions classroom and immediately scowls. Harry doesn’t know _how_ the man knows about their sleeping arrangement last night, but he’s sure that he _does_ … and even though Harry tries to act like normal and respectfully keep his focus on the scarab beetle eyes he’s mashing up, for some reason he finds himself physically incapable of keeping his eyes off Draco for more than a few seconds and, considering he catches the other boy staring at him every time he glances over it would appear the blonde is suffering from the same mysterious affliction… 

 

”Okay, that’s enough”, Professor Snape snaps a quarter into the lesson. ”Draco stay where you are — Harry, move up here — now — come on, bring your things!”

 

Feeling his face heat up, Harry ducks his head and begins to gather up his ingredients with fumbling haste, conscious of everyone’s eyes on him. The Gryffindors look between him and Draco either curiously or with frowns of confusion, while the Slytherins snicker and Seamus lets out a wolf-whistle before Professor Snape shoots him a warning glare.

 

Harry hauls his cauldron to the empty table in front of Professor Snape’s desk and heaves it onto the table top before lifting the ingredients out of it again and lining them up on the table in the order he’ll need them. 

 

Professor Snape sweeps around the classroom, inspecting the students’ work closely, but ignoring Granger’s as usual, probably so he won’t be forced to dole out any points to Gryffindor unnecessarily… Instead, he swoops down on Longbottom with such finality that the boy startles, spilling his scarab beetle eyes all over the floor and down his own robes. 

 

”Five points from Gryffindor, Longbottom…” Professor Snape says swiftly. 

 

He then swirls around and swats the back of Seamus’ head to get the boy to focus on his potion instead of trying to drop scarab beetle eyes down the back of Daphne’s robes. 

 

”Won’t deck any points though…” Harry hears Ron mutter and turns his head around to see Dean Thomas nod sourly. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” Professor Snape snaps. ”If I catch you looking anywhere but at those scarab beetle eyes in front of you _one more time_ …”

 

”Sorry, Sir!” Harry says quickly, turning back around. 

 

Clearly not trusting Harry to be able to keep his focus for long, Professor Snape stalks to the front of the classroom and lowers himself into the seat behind his desk. Harry glances up at him, but quickly returns his focus to grinding the beetle eyes into a fine powder when he receives one of the Potions Master’s deadliest glares in return. 

 

”That’s enough”, Snape hisses. 

 

Harry looks up in surprise. The man gives his powdered beetle eyes a meaningful look, frowning deeply. Harry hurries to tip them into his cauldron, then reaches for his ginger roots instead and begins to cut them into even pieces. 

 

There’s a knock on the door to the classroom. Everyone looks up curiously. 

 

”Enter”, Snape says. 

 

The door swings open and to everyone’s surprise Professor Karkaroff walks inside, heading straight to the front of the classroom. He’s got a finger twisted in his goatee again, but it looks less like a strategy to achieve that sophisticated curl and more like a nervous tick now… In fact, Harry thinks the man looks quite agitated when he pulls to a stop right next to Professor Snape, his eyes flitting all over the place but not really focusing on anything.

 

”We need to talk”, he says in an abrupt undertone, lips barely moving at all. 

 

Harry quickly ducks his head again and concentrates hard on keeping his knife busy, while listening intently. 

 

”I’ll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff”, Professor Snape says quietly. 

 

”I want to talk now, while you can’t slip off, Severus! You’ve been avoiding me —”

 

”After the lesson”, Snape snaps again. 

 

Pretending to hold up his measuring cup to make sure he’s poured enough armadillo bile into it, Harry sneaks a quick look at the two professors. Karkaroff definitely looks agitated now, fidgeting at Snape’s shoulder and looking around worriedly while Snape continues to glare across the classroom, looking angrier than Harry has seen him in a while… His dark eyes flicker down to meet Harry’s and Harry quickly ducks his head again, adding some more armadillo bile to the measuring cup. 

 

This is the second time Harry has caught Karkaroff trying to talk to Professor Snape and considering the man keeps using Snape’s first name, he can only assume they know each other from before… He hasn’t heard Karkaroff address any of the other teachers by their first name after all, not even Dumbledore. But however he and Professor Snape know each other, it doesn’t seem as though they’re on particularly good terms. At least Snape doesn’t appear too thrilled to talk to the other man. If what Karkaroff said is true, he’s even been avoiding the man.

 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry knocks over the bottle of armadillo bile just before the bell rings, so that he has an excuse to stay behind and continue to eavesdrop as he bends down to mop up the mess from the floor. 

 

”What’s so urgent?” he hears Snape hiss as the other students begin to pack up and move out of the classroom noisily. 

 

” _This_ ”, Karkaroff snarls, and Harry quickly peers around his cauldron to see him pull up his left-hand sleeve and show Snape something on his inner forearm. ”Well? Do you see? It’s never been this clear before, not since —”

 

”Put it away!” Snape snarls and with an exasperated side-long glance in Harry’s direction, he finally manages to shut Karkaroff up. 

 

The man pulls his sleeve back down and then throws Harry a withering look, before hurrying out of the classroom again, clutching his arm desperately to his chest and slamming the door shut behind him. 

 

Snape turns to Harry with flashing black eyes as he folds his arms tightly across his chest — almost as tightly as Karkaroff had clutched his arm, Harry thinks. 

 

”I dropped… ehm… this”, Harry says, gesturing vaguely with the half-empty bottle of armadillo bile. 

 

Snape’s scowl deepens, but his eyes soften tiredly.

 

”Just… get out of my classroom, Harry. You’ll be late for Charms”, he says, but there’s hardly any bite behind the words. 

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

 

 

*

 

At the end of March most of the snow has melted away from the grounds and the sun starts to make an almost daily appearance. Harry and his friends, like most of the students at Hogwarts, begin to venture outside for longer and longer periods in-between classes and at lunchtime, soaking up the sunlight with such eagerness you only really feel after having lived through a particularly long and cold Scottish winter. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws maybe even more so than the other two houses, since their underground dormitories are colder and damper than those located above ground. 

 

Despite this, and despite the sense of contentment Harry undoubtedly feels basking in the afternoon sun with his friends, he still prefers hanging out in the gloomy Common Room where Draco will drape himself along his side and hold his hand for no other reason than to be close… something he (obviously) can’t do anywhere else in or outside the castle — and Harry has come to terms with that, he really has — but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a pity… if Harry had it his way, he would be plastered to the blonde around the clock (with the possible exception of either of them having to use the loo…)

 

Before they know it, Easter Holidays are upon them, but considering the amount of homework they’ve been assigned, the fourth years will hardly have time to take a break from their studies at all. Almost as an added insult to the ridiculous mountain of school work to get through, a Hogsmeade visit has been scheduled for the Easter weekend… Harry considers asking Draco if he wants to tag along and have lunch with him and his dads, but in the end he decides he doesn’t want to rock the boat now that everything has worked out finally, so he tells Draco and their friends that he’ll meet up with them in the Three Broomsticks later in the afternoon.

 

As usual, Harry is the first in line to have his name ticked off by Filch, and then makes his way down to Hogsmeade at a brisk pace, finally breaking into a run as he reaches the High Street and doesn’t stop until he reaches the small gate of Number Two Creirwy’s Hollow, in fact he’s managed to pick up such a momentum he can only stop by crashing into the gate. 

 

”Whoa…” Sirius says as he steps out of the front door. ”Watch the hinges…”

 

Harry slams the gate shut behind him again and it does appear to be slightly more wonky now… He gives his dad an apologetic look, but the man just pulls him into his chest and wraps his arms around him tightly, clapping him on the back before pulling away again. Remus who has now joined them on the driveway quickly takes his place and embraces Harry and although it lacks the abruptness of Sirius’ hug, it’s just as tight if not more so. 

 

”Daddy”, Harry gasps after a moment. ”Can’t breathe…”

 

”Sorry, sorry”, Remus mumbles, finally releasing Harry again. 

 

They walk inside the cottage and after a quick cup of coffee, Harry and Remus adjourn to the lounge where they spend the rest of the morning practising Stunning and Disarming charms in preparation for the third task. 

 

After a couple of hours Sirius joins them and watches proudly as Harry demonstrates the progress he’s made. 

 

”You know, I think you have a chance at winning this tournament, Harry…”

 

”Don’t start”, Remus snaps. 

 

”I’m just saying… Our boy has grown up to be a very talented wizard, I think he could have given James a run for his money!”

 

”That’s not the point”, Remus mutters. 

 

”I know”, Sirius says slowly. ”I know that and I know you’re worried. I’m worried. I just think it’s all right to be worried and proud…”

 

Remus doesn’t say anything for a while, just gives his husband a pensive look. He then turns back to Harry and pierces him with the same look. 

 

”I am proud of you, Harry”, he says seriously after a second. ”I hope you’ve never doubted that…”

 

”No, I know”, Harry says quickly, blushing slightly. ”I know you are…”

 

”Well, now that that’s settled”, Sirius says. ”Time for a spot a lunch, I think!” 

 

Harry feels a surge of relief and gratitude to Sirius for breaking up the rather heavy moment. Not that he doesn’t appreciate his daddy’s sentiments and support, he really does. But sometimes the man can get a little too intense, especially when it comes to protecting his family. Harry supposes it’s the werewolf in him… 

 

A roasted leg of lamb is waiting for them in the kitchen, surrounded by all sorts of greens, roasted potatoes and a steaming gravy boat. Harry feels his stomach growl in anticipation and eagerly takes his seat at the table. 

 

”Do you know why Barty Crouch wasn’t at the Second Task, Harry?” Remus asks curiously, as he hands him the carrots. ”His personal assistant was filling in for him…”

 

”Yeah, Ron’s brother Percy”, Harry says. ”He went to the Yule Ball instead of Mr Crouch as well, said he was overworked or something…”

 

Sirius snorts, ” _Overworked_ … It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s gone round the bend finally… That house-elf of his who was found on the scene of the Dark Mark at the World Cup, probably just hiding in the woods during all the commotion, he gave it clothes, right then and there, in front of everyone… There’s no way a house-elf conjured that Dark Mark. I don’t care that they found Harry’s wand next to her. She could just as easily have found it on the forest floor.” 

 

”I don’t think she did it, either”, Harry says remembering the pitiful elf. ”Mr Crouch made her sit in that Top Box the whole game and save his seat for him and she looked terrified. She kept hiding her face in her hands. And he never even showed up…” 

 

”Doesn’t surprise me”, Sirius mutters. ”Crouch has been a cold-hearted bastard ever since the war…”

 

”Since the war? Why?” Harry asks, feeling a twinge of dread. ”Did his family…?”

 

”You could say that”, Sirius mutters darkly. ”His son was caught hanging out with — with a couple of Death Eaters.”

 

”D-Death Eaters? So… what happened to him—?”

 

”Barty sent him to Azkaban. Didn’t even bat an eye—!” 

 

Harry stares. _What kind of parent would send their own child to Azkaban?_

 

As if reading his mind, Remus gives Harry a sad smile and rubs his arm gently. 

 

”—Gave him a life sentence even”, Sirius continues. ”Even though he’d just turned eighteen, and some argued he was just a young lad who fell in with the wrong crowd and that should have made the Wizengamot more lenient but…”

 

”He was just eighteen?” Harry says. ”So he’s been in Azkaban almost half his life—”

 

”No, cub…” Remus says softly. ”He only served one year of his sentence in the end… after that he… well, he died…”

 

”He _died?_ ” Harry repeats incredulously.

 

”Yeah, and Barty’s wife died soon after as well, some would say from a broken heart”, Sirius mutters. ”If Barty was a ruthless workaholic before, he only got worse after that… I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to lose it, to be honest”, he adds almost casually. 

 

”It was dark times back then, Harry”, Remus says gently, rubbing his arm again. ”During the war _and_ after… and you know terror, it… it can bring out the worst in people—”

 

”Or the best”, Sirius says immediately. ”No better judge of character, in my opinion.”

 

”Yes, well”, Remus says in a rather clipped tone. ”It’s complicated, is all I’m saying…”

 

”Not from where I’m sitting”, Sirius says briskly, but he finally pays heed to Remus’ warning frown and changes the subject. 

 

Their conversation is halted altogether however, when an owl taps on the window. It’s not an owl that Harry recognises. It’s got at least two different letters clamped securely in its beak.

 

”Oh what now…” Remus murmurs. 

 

Sirius gets up and opens the window. The owl swoops in and drops a handful of letters onto the table, before flying out the window again. Harry sits up a little straighter so that he can get a good look at the envelopes, to see if he recognises the handwriting, but be barely gets a look at the first one before Sirius has snatched all the letter up and shoved them out of sight under today’s copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the kitchen counter. 

 

”What…” Harry says, looking in confusion between his dads scowling faces. 

 

”Don’t worry about it, Harry”, Remus mutters. 

 

”How do they keep finding our address?” Sirius growls as he sits back down heavily. 

 

”I don’t know”, Remus says quickly. ”We’ll talk about it later…”

 

”What’s going on?” Harry asks cautiously.

 

”Nothing”, Sirius and Remus say in unison. 

 

”Why are you lying? What’s going on?” Harry says in alarm. 

 

Sirius sighs in exasperation, ”Oh, let’s just tell him…”

 

Harry whips his head around to stare at Remus. The man is eyeing his husband with a doubtful frown. 

 

”He’ll find out sooner or later anyway!” Sirius adds. ”Just tell him!”

 

”Tell me what? Daddy, what’s going on—?”

 

”It’s really nothing to worry about, Harry — _but I will tell you_ ”, he adds quickly, when Harry opens his mouth to protest. ”Ever since Rita Skeeter started writing about us in the _Daily Prophet_ , we’ve been receiving letters from people… random strangers… who believe all those things she’s saying.”

 

”And, what?” Harry says. ”What do they want? What do the letter say?”

 

”Just spiteful rubbish”, Remus says with a dismissive shake of his head. 

 

”The ones addressed to _me_ are”, Sirius corrects. ”They’re usually from little old witches with The Boy Who Lived’s best interest at heart and they want to tell me exactly what they think of my decision to marry a werewolf…”

 

”I don’t understand…” Harry says. 

 

Remus gives him a small smile and Harry can’t help but notice that his eyes get a little misty. 

 

”Oh, you know”, Sirius continues breezily. ”How can I call myself a father, I should be ashamed of myself—”

 

”For what”, Harry persists. ”I don’t get it—!”

 

”For raising you in a home with a werwolf, Harry”, Remus says quietly. ”They think it’s a form of child abuse.”

 

” _Child abuse!_ ” Harry splutters. 

 

”It’s not as crazy as it sounds—”

 

”It’s absolutely mental”, Sirius growls, sending his husband a glare. 

 

”They believe I’m dangerous”, Remus says with an awkward shrug. ”Their hearts are in the right place…”

 

”And the tossers who send you death threats, are _their_ hearts in the right place too—?”

 

Remus shuts his eyes briefly as a pained sigh escapes him. 

 

” _Death threats?_ ” Harry exclaims. ”What—!”

 

”Was that necessary?” Remus asks his husband quietly. 

 

Sirius’ anger seems to simmer down finally and he looks regretful as he eyes Harry’s alarmed face. 

 

”It’s nothing to worry about”, he tells him. ”They’re just empty threats—”

 

”Have you contacted the Aurors?”

 

”There’s no need, Harry — really — plus they wouldn’t be able to do anything”, Sirius says heavily. ”The threats are always anonymous…”

 

”So, what, they’re not even going to _try_ —?”

 

”It’s better to just ignore them”, Remus says firmly. ”It will blow over once the tournament is over… How are things with Draco?”

 

Even after finding out his dads have been dealing with something so sinister, essentially because of him — _well, no,_ he tells himself when the thought flares up, _because of Rita fucking Skeeter_ — at the very mention of Draco, he feels his whole body fill up with a warmth he’s now come to identify as the very specific brand of happiness he feels when he’s with the other boy, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s smiling again.

 

”Great, really great…” he says. 

 

To his utter bafflement, his dads exchange a quick look and then Sirius makes a quick excuse and dashes out of the kitchen.

 

”That’s great, Harry. _Really_ ”, Remus says gently, smiling reassuringly at him before sobering up again and schools his face in what appears to be his most neutral expression. ”Last year, you mentioned sleeping with Draco… is that something… something you’ve continued doing?”

 

With a jolt, Harry realises what’s happening. His daddy is having _the talk_ with him… torn between hysterical amusement and utter mortification, Harry sits petrified and blinks owlishly while a traitorous blush spreads rapidly in his face. Now he knows why Sirius left the kitchen in such a rush… _wish I could leave as well…_

 

”You said at the time that you and Draco just slept, nothing more—”

 

”We didn’t!”

 

”That’s fine, Harry”, Remus says quickly. ”I believe you, but… well, as much as I like to think otherwise most of the time, you _are_ getting older and… and I’m sure you’re having all sorts of… _feelings_ … yes?”

 

”Ehm…”

 

”And I just want you to know that whatever you’re feeling is completely natural”, Remus adds firmly. 

 

”Oh o-okay…” Harry says faintly. 

 

”And although you really should be sure that you’re… _ready_ … before you start to _act_ on those feelings, it is perfectly natural that you should… want to… ehm, act on them”, Remus flounders slightly, but quickly composes himself again, adding quickly, ”With Draco.”

 

 _As if I’d want to be doing anything with anyone else,_ Harry thinks. 

 

”Now, I don’t want to put you through too much embarrassment, Harry”, Remus says with an apologetic look. ”But I really want you to know that you can talk to me about… anything you might be feeling, or ask me any questions you might have… ”

 

Harry feels his face heat up even further and stares down at table top, but nods quickly to show his daddy that he understands. 

 

”And…” Remus hesitates briefly. ”You don’t have to tell me, but… have you and Draco… done anything more than just sleep since… since the last time we talked about it?”

 

”Ehm… Well… A little”, Harry mumbles, feeling positively feverish. ”A little more, I guess.”

 

”Okay…” Remus says slowly, his voice carefully neutral. 

 

”Um… we’ve… you know, touched… each other”, Harry adds, glancing up shyly. 

 

Remus nods quickly, and gives him an encouraging smile but there’s definitely a red hue to his cheeks, ”Okay! That’s fine! Like I said, natural and… fine for now, really. I mean. If you should want to do… other things… _eventually_ … it’s normal to experiment together, when you’re in a committed relationship, like you and Draco are, so that’s all… _that’s fine_. Just never do anything you don’t feel comfortable with and… you’re only fourteen, you have all the time in the world, so there’s no need to rush into anything you — or Draco — might not be ready for, you understand?”

 

Harry nods quickly again. 

 

”And — Harry, this is important — you need to be really careful if you’re using any spells… in fact, I don’t want you to use any spells at all, at this stage—”

 

”Spells?” Harry asks blankly. 

 

”When you — at some point _in the future_ — if you want to try other things with Draco, such as … ehm, massaging each other for example, or… you’ll want to use something to help… lubricate.”

 

”Oh…” Harry says faintly, not really sure what his daddy is talking about, but sure it’s not as innocent as a massage sounds.

 

”Some adults use a spell for _that_ for example, and there are other spells one might want to experiment with to enhance the sexual experience as well, _but_ — and I’m serious about this, Harry — you are much too young to be attempting spells like that. Adults get into accidents all the time, because their aroused state bungles up their concentration so it’s really not something that a pair of teenagers should be playing around with, understand?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says hurriedly. 

 

”When the day comes and you and Draco want to… massage each other… there are salves that work just as well as any lubrication spell. Better in fact. I’ll even get some for you, if you want… and…” he hesitates again, but only for a second. ”I also wanted to give you this…”

 

He twists around in his seat and grabs a book from the counter behind him and gently slides it across the table. Harry stares at it, his cheeks so hot he can barely feel them at all anymore.

 

 _”The Workings of the Heart and Body: a wizard’s guide to sexual and romantic relations”_ , it says in large and oddly colourful letters across the cover of the book. 

 

”It will hopefully answer any questions you or Draco might have, and like I said before, I’m also happy to answer anything you want to ask… okay?”

 

Not really finding his voice anymore, Harry simply nods again. 

 

”Yes?” Remus prods, his lips twitching slightly. 

 

Harry glances up at him shyly again and smiles slightly as he nods again. 

 

”Good”, Remus says decisively, then turns to shout over his shoulder. ”Coast is clear!”

 

Within seconds, Sirius bounds back into the room and drapes himself in his seat. Then begins to chat animatedly like he never left at all, while Remus gets up and retrieves a massive Simnel cake from the pantry and places in the middle of the table, before loading the cafetiere for three cups of coffee.

 

When Harry pulls the book towards him and puts it in his lap, his dad becomes extremely distracted by a bird flitting past the kitchen window, but his speech never wavers. 

 

Remus is watching him with fond exasperation, and for some reason _that_ more than anything makes Harry relax about the whole thing again and he grins happily as his dad spins them a story from the Ministry, half of it clearly exaggerated if not completely made up. 

 

”It was great to have you home…” Remus says, as he hugs Harry goodbye a while later. ”Here, I forgot I made these. Why don’t you take them with you?”

 

He presses a large bundle into Harry’s hands. Peeking inside, Harry sees at least a dozen hot cross buns and grins.

 

”Thanks, daddy!”

 

By the time Harry reaches the Three Broomsticks, most Hogwarts students are finishing up their butterbeers and making their way out of there, but Harry spots a familiar white-blonde head sticking up over the edge of a booth at the back and hurries over. Draco is joined by Blaise, Seamus, Theodore and — to Harry’s dismay — Pansy and Daphne. 

 

The boys all look up and grin in greeting when they see him, but the girls pretend not to have noticed his entrance at all. _Fine by me,_ Harry thinks and slides into the seat next to Draco and discretely knocks their knees together under the table. 

 

”How was lunch?” Draco asks in a carefully neutral voice. 

 

”It was good”, Harry says and nods. ”They said to say hi… to everyone”, he adds and looks across the table at his friends who smirk back knowingly. 

 

It’s true. His dads hadn’t said to say hi to any of them, but they hadn’t exactly said to say hi to Draco either, _technically_ … Remus had actually told him to _send Draco their love_ , but Harry wasn’t going to do anything of the sort, not in the Three Broomsticks, and definitely not in front of Pansy…

 

”Do I have time for a butterbeer?” he asks. 

 

”Yeah, we have about half an hour”, Blaise says. 

 

”Anyone else?” Harry asks as he stands back up again, but the boys all shake their heads indicating their nearly full tankards. ”Daphne, Pans?”

 

A sudden stillness spreads over the small company and the boys around the table exchange subtle but slightly incredulous looks, while Harry watches the two girls with a stubborn calm. They both turn their heads towards him slowly and stare back silently. He raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

 

”No, thank you”, Pansy says coolly, after a beat, but a thoughtful look settles on her face as she gives Harry a once-over. 

 

”No, thanks”, Daphne says as well.

 

Harry nods. 

 

”Everyone help yourself to a bun”, he says nodding to the bundle he’s left on the table, before making his way over to the bar. 

 

He orders a tankard of butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta and smiles thinly when the older witch flirts with him shamelessly, much to the amusement of a rather tipsy wizard slouched over the bar. 

 

When he comes back to the booth, the atmosphere has lifted again and everyone is chatting amicably, even the girls, and when Harry slides into the seat next to Draco, the blonde’s hand sneaks onto his thigh and gives him a gentle squeeze. 

 

They linger in the pub until the very last minute, dreading going back out into the cold. But finally, they file outside and begin the long trek back to the castle.

 

”Harry! _Hey, Harry!_ ”

 

Looking over his shoulder, Harry is surprised to see Cedric Diggory waving at him from a few yards away and stops to wait for the older boy to catch up. The other Slytherins mumble something about seeing him in the Common Room and continue to walk up the steps to front doors, but Draco stays behind with Harry. 

 

”Hey, Harry…” Diggory says again as he reaches them. 

 

”Hey”, Harry says warily. 

 

”Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you… I feel really bad about not tipping you off about that egg, you know after you told me about the dragons…”

 

”Oh. Don’t worry about it, I wanted to work it out on my own anyway, so…”

 

Diggory gives him a knowing look then and nods, ”It’s this tournament, it does something to you, doesn’t it? Makes you want to prove yourself somehow…”

 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles, shifting awkwardly. 

 

He’s just about to make an excuse so that he and Draco can leave, when the Hufflepuff leans in conspiratorially and says, ”It’s been a real help for me, actually… before the Goblet of Fire chose me, I was always perceived as, you know… well… a pretty boy, basically — which is fine, you know, I’ll take it as a compliment — but it’s also a bit… emasculating, you know what I mean?”

 

”Er…”

 

”Draco knows”, Diggory adds with a wink in the blonde’s direction. 

 

”What?” Harry says.

 

”We’re late for detention”, Draco quickly and before Harry has managed to get another word out, he’s being pulled away insistently by the blonde and Diggory is waving after them. 

 

”What… what was that about?” Harry hisses, as they begin the descent down the spiral staircase to the dungeons. ”Did he just… did he just call you _pretty?_ ”

 

” _No!_ ” Draco says haughtily and huffs. 

 

”What do you mean _no_ —?”

 

”Pretty boy”, Draco corrects drily, and then sniffs in his best Narcissa impression, but there’s no hiding the blush in his cheeks and for some reason it makes Harry angrier that the blonde would try to appear unbothered by it, when he _so clearly isn’t_ …

 

”Well, isn’t that precious”, he snaps. ”You _pretty boys_ have a club or something?”

 

”Don’t be ridiculous”, Draco mutters. 

 

As soon as they step off the staircase, he interweaves their fingers together and Harry loses his train of thought for a minute and by the time he remembers why he was angry in the first place, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore, because they’ve reached the Common Room and Draco has pulled him over to a free love seat in front of the fire and promptly leans in to nuzzle the side of his face as soon as he’s sat down. 

 

Later that night, Harry starts flicking through the book Remus gave him. It turns out to be very detailed and not only that, it comes with moving illustrations… the first chapter, which is on something called _hand-jobs,_ brings back _very_ happy memories, but as Harry keeps flicking the pages to the next chapter — titled _oral sex: there are many ways to kiss_ — the illustrations make him too embarrassed and he quickly snaps the book shut again and hides it in his trunk. 

 

But even with the book safely hidden away, the image of the two hand-drawn wizards keeps playing in his head and he can’t stop himself from imagining what it would be like to do something like that to Draco… or what it would feel like if Draco did it to him… turning his head and pressing his face into his pillow, Harry muffles the groan that escapes him. An all too familiar pulsing warmth has gathered in his sternum and his cock swells eagerly. 

 

Sitting up quickly, Harry peaks out of the bed hangings to make sure Draco is asleep in the other bed, before casting a quick Silencing Charm on his own bed and taking himself in hand. As he relaxes back against his pillow, his shuts his eyes and recalls the feeling of Draco’s long and slender fingers wrapped around him, squeezing him hard and pumping him with sure movements… Speeding up his own movements to match the pace of the memory, Harry feels the familiar pressure of pleasure as it builds…

 

The illustration from the book flashes through his mind and he groans again as the wizard bent over the crotch of the other wizard morphs into a familiar angular face, white-blonde hair falling into glittering grey eyes… and then suddenly he’s _inside_ the drawing, except it’s not a drawing at all, it’s the memory again, except not really… his mind has taken the memory and twisted it to fantasy; he’s sprawled out on his bed, propped up on his elbows and staring down at Draco… marvelling at his flushed cheeks as they hollow and his obscenely red lips as they stretch around him —

 

Face twisting involuntarily, Harry lets out a gasp as his orgasm ripples through him. Then as the last wave of pleasure leaves his body, Harry goes limp as he catches his breath. 

 

Holding his hand up idly, he examines the evidence of what he’s just done as it cools on his skin… _wonder what you do with this stuff when you’re doing that oral thing,_ he thinks and makes a mental note to check what the book says about it, at some point, before he attempts to try this with Draco for real. 

 

Fumbling for his wand, Harry Vanishes the semen from his hand before lifting the Silencing Charm and crawling under the covers and falling into a dreamless sleep. 

 

The fantasy is still fresh in his mind when he wakes up the next morning, and even if it wasn’t, sitting across from Draco at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall would surely have reminded him… Harry can’t help but to stare as the blonde helps himself to a bowl of plain yogurt and then proceeds to finish said bowl one half-spoon at a time, more or less licking the white creamy substance from the golden spoon… and then getting a drop of yogurt on the side of his mouth… within minutes, Harry is embarrassingly hard under his robes and can only blush and blink when Draco gives him a funny look.

 

”What, do I have something on my face?” 

 

”Erm — y-yeah, you have some — ehm, r-right here”, Harry mumbles and points to the side of his own mouth, then stares as Draco’s tongue sneaks out and licks the drop of yogurt from the side of his lower lip. 

 

”Did I get it?”

 

”Huh?” Harry says dumbly, blinking owlishly. 

 

”Are you all right?” Draco frowns.

 

”Uh-huh, yep, good”, Harry says and nods furiously. ”Great, actually.”

 

Draco doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press the matter which Harry is grateful for… and something else he’s extremely grateful for, and that he’s never really appreciated before now, is how thick and heavy their school robes are (enough to successfully hide any inconvenient hard-ons you might get, apparently!) which really is fortunate, since Harry’s erection persists all through breakfast and doesn’t really wilt until the heavy incense in the Divinations classroom hits him. 

 

He makes a beeline for a chintz armchair and sinks into the seat, letting Professor Trelawny’s misty voice wash over him… as long as he doesn’t actually fall asleep, Harry doesn’t really have to pay attention in Divination anymore. He can just let his mind wander freely and still get top marks, since Trelawny has begun to view the faraway look in his eyes as a sign that he’s contemplating his own dark destiny and coming to terms with it… Draco keeps shooting him unimpressed looks, but Harry doesn’t care. 

 

Draco must be the only student who doesn’t believe in Divination and still cares about doing the work… he’s definitely the only Slytherin listening to Trelawny with a politely avid look on his face now, as the woman begins to talk about the larger schemes of the universe. 

 

 _Not even_ Granger _cares about Divination,_ Harry thinks. The girl famously dropped the subject last year. According to the rumours, she called Trelawny a miserable bat and then threw a crystal ball on her foot before storming out of the classroom… _it does sound a bit far-fetched,_ Harry thinks. _But no smoke without a fire._

 

As if the unusual detour of his thoughts veering towards the Gryffindor bookworm has somehow summoned her, none other than Hermione Granger approaches Harry when he and his friends are studying in the library later that afternoon. He’s so thrown off when she stops next to him that he can only blink up at her stupidly when she begins to speak passionately and quickly about Rita Skeeter and her articles, without so much as an _hello_ first, her hair seemingly getting frizzier and frizzier with every impassioned word. 

 

”I mean, it’s just _vile!_ ” she says harshly. ”What she wrote about you showing signs of a pathological co-dependency that a child could only develop under the most extreme emotional living conditions, I mean even if you _did_ show signs of anything of the sort, the claims that it would be the result of growing up feeling scared all the time is _completely_ unfounded, there is literally _no_ evidence based on any respectable research that supports such claims — I’ve checked — and to publish it like that, like it’s the _truth_ , it’s not only irresponsible, it’s down-right _hateful!_ ”

 

The girl finally stops to breathe. Harry opens his mouth to say something, but comes up with nothing. So he snaps his mouth shut again.

 

”Anyway…” Granger says with a frustrated huff. ”I just wanted to say that. And offer my sympathies. And let you know that not everyone thinks like that horrid woman!”

 

”Er… thanks”, Harry says awkwardly. 

 

He feels genuinely grateful for the girl’s gesture, but he’s also keenly aware of the sets of suspicious glares on all sides of him, none as fierce as Draco’s… 

 

”You’re welcome”, Granger says. ”Professor Lupin is one of the best teachers we’ve ever had and it’s just… just _awful_ that he can’t teach because of… of idiotic prejudice like that woman is spreading!”

 

”Ehm, yeah…”

 

”Sorry, I’ll let you get back to your studies… I just read that article in the Prophet this morning and I just had to say something!”

 

”There was another article?” Harry says, feeling himself grow heavier at the idea, especially knowing that his dads will probably get another handful of hateful letter soon, if that’s the case. 

 

”Oh, it was just more of the same tripe”, Granger says with a sniff. ”Don’t read it, it will just upset you… Anyway, I’ll see you around Harry…”

 

”What the hell…” Draco whispers as soon as she’s walked away. ”What was _that_ about…?”

 

”I dunno”, Harry mumbles. ”But I’ll take it.”

 

”What do you mean _you’ll take it_?”

 

”Let’s just say I’m glad to hear there are some people who don’t believe everything Rita Skeeter writes in that blasted newspaper… apparently, my dads have been getting… well, hate mail, basically… my daddy’s even been getting death threats.”

 

”You’re joking”, Seamus mutters, looking uncomfortable at such a serious subject matter. ”What, for real?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says dully. ”All thanks to that Skeeter woman…”

 

”Hey, anyone else curious about where she’s getting her information?” Blaise says. ”Dumbledore banned her from Hogwarts ages ago and yet she keeps printing stories. I mean, it’s all pretty much the same but it’s always sprinkled with new details… where is she getting those from, if she can’t come onto the grounds anymore?”

 

”Probably just makes it up”, Harry says and shrugs. 

 

”Maybe…” Blaise says, but he looks unconvinced. 

 

Harry looks over at Draco — the blonde has been unusually quiet for a while — and catches him glaring over at Granger who is now sitting with Ron and Longbottom at the other end of the library.

 

”She was just being nice, will you let it go…” he says in exasperation. 

 

”I don’t trust her”, Draco mutters immediately. 

 

”I want to know how she managed to get Krum to ask her out”, Pansy says in the same tone of voice. ”Think she slipped him a love potion?”

 

”Undoubtedly”, Draco says swiftly. ”She’s not stupid enough to use an Unforgivable —”

 

”Seriously”, Harry mutters, shaking his head. ”She’s not that bad…”

 

Draco and Pansy immediately whip their heads around and glare at him. He rolls his eyes. 

 

”No-one else has come up to me to offer their sympathy”, he says, turning to Pansy and mirroring her glare. ” _You_ haven’t even said anything about it.”

 

”Of course I haven’t”, the girl says haughtily. ”I wasn’t speaking to you at all until about two seconds ago.”

 

”Yeah, well, _I_ think it was _nice_ of Granger to _say something…_ ”

 

Draco and Pansy turn to glare suspiciously at the Gryffindors again. Recognising a lost cause when he sees one, Harry just shakes his head and turns back to his essay on goblin rebellions.

 

”Definitely a love potion, look at him…” Pansy mutters. 

 

Harry glances up and follows the girl’s line of sight. Krum is slouched at the end of the Legal Section, throwing surreptitious looks over at the table where Granger is studying with Ron and Longbottom, apparently oblivious to the small herd of giggling girls lounging half a bookcase away from him. 

 

”I’m surprised it’s not bigger news, I mean look at her”, Pansy continues in a low, excited murmur. ”She’s ugly. Surely people must suspect something!”

 

Draco hums in agreement. 

 

Harry frowns and looks over at the Gryffindors. He doesn’t think the girl is that unattractive. Granted, her front teeth are on the larger side and that hair… But he wouldn’t go as far as calling her _ugly_. She’d been quite pretty at the Yule Ball… 

 

As one of the mob of girls hanging around Krum lets out a particularly loud giggle, Granger looks up and huffs angrily. She says something to the other Gryffindors and they all gather up their books. 

 

”Sad…” Pansy murmurs.

 

Harry glances over at Krum and catches the forlorn look on the boy’s face, as he watches the Gryffindors leave. 

 

”Pathetic”, Draco agrees.

 

Suddenly Krum looks over and catches Harry staring, and Harry feels his cheeks heat up. He quickly ducks his head and pulls his essay a little closer, skimming over what he’s written so far but not really registering the words at all. 

 

”Excuse me…”

 

Harry startles and looks up again in surprise. Krum is looming over him, looking surlier than ever. 

 

”Hey…” Harry says. ”What… what can I do for you?”

 

”Can ve talk? In private?” 

 

Harry swallows and quickly glances at his friends. They look as shocked as he himself feels. 

 

”Er… yeah, sure, I guess…” Harry says, awkwardly pushing his chair back from the table and standing. 

 

Krum leads him over to a secluded corner of the library, except the horde of girls trail after them and Harry is uncomfortably aware of their curious eyes as Krum drags him further into the shadows of the Beasts Section. 

 

”I saw you vit Hermy-own-ninny”, the older boy says finally, his brow furrowing further as he watches Harry’s face intently.

 

”Who?” Harry says.

 

”Hermy-own-ninny, I saw her talk to you…”

 

” _Oh!_ Granger — yeah, she — yeah”, Harry nods. ”Why?”

 

”I vas vondering if you could maybe give me some ideas for vot I can do to get her to see how much I like her… ”

 

Harry stares. Krum is asking him for love advice? About Granger? Maybe the girl _has_ slipped him some love potion after all…

 

”Ve have good times together in the library and valking round the grounds”, the Durmstrang boy continues. ”But I don’t know if she likes me like friend or more… vot do you think?”

 

”Ehm… I… I really couldn’t tell you”, Harry says honestly. 

 

”You are friends vit her, no?”

 

”Oh! No! No no no, we’re not — I mean! — we’re on _friendly terms_ , but we’re not _friends_ … honestly, I barely know her at all…” 

 

Krum looks simultaneously relieved and disappointed at this, but nods seriously and thanks Harry for his time. Then turns away and begins to slouch away again.

 

”Hey, wait”, Harry says quickly. ”You can sit with me and my friends… if you want, that is…”

 

”Are you sure?” Krum says quietly. ”I do not vish to impose…”

 

”Oh, no, you wouldn’t be imposing!” Harry says and smiles. ”I eh… I’m actually a big fan… I didn’t want to say before, because, well… I guess you must get sick of hearing it? Anyway, I was at the World Cup and you were amazing… that Wronksi Feint…”

 

”Thank you”, Krum says. ”I vas vatching you fly at the first task, you are also very good…”

 

”Oh… Thanks…” Harry says, blushing slightly. ”I’m nowhere near as good as you, but I do love to fly… I was actually hoping to get back on my House Team this year, before I knew about the tournament… I was a Seeker in Second Year, but then I got banned from Quidditch for a year…”

 

”You got banned from quidditch?” Krum says incredulously. 

 

”Yeah, my Head of House, Professor Snape, banned me as punishment for… well, for breaking the rules too many times basically…”

 

”That is extreme… at Durmstrang we get detention and the labour is very taxing, but Professor Karkaroff vould never take quidditch away from us!”

 

”Yeah well, the detentions weren’t working on me, so…” Harry mutters wryly, aware that he’s sounding just like the rebel Rita Skeeter likes to portray him as. ”Anyway, I could have been expelled, so I’m okay with a one year quidditch ban…”

 

They walk back out of the Beasts Section and join Harry’s friends. Krum grabs a free chair from the table next to theirs and squeezes in between Harry and Seamus, then spends the better part of an hour getting questioned by Pansy and Draco without ever even realising it because the two Slytherins are so subtle about it that, unless you know them very well, like Harry does, it just sounds like idle chit-chat and polite small talk. Smirking, Harry sits back and watches the two of them with a fond exasperation. 

 

Draco glances over and meets his gaze suddenly and Harry’s smirk widens.

 

 _What,_ Draco mouths and squints at him. 

 

But Harry just shakes his head again.

 


	29. The Third Task

One evening at the end of May the champions are called down to the Quidditch pitch to get their instructions for the Third Task, so Harry leaves Draco and their friends in the Common Room and walks back upstairs. As he makes his way across the lawn, he can see Krum slouch down the plank from the Durmstrang ship. He waves his hand to get the other boy’s attention. 

 

Krum steps off the plank and shuffles along the shore, watching Harry expectantly as he approaches. He doesn’t smile, but his brow seems to unfurrow slightly at least, which Harry figures is close enough… As he reaches him, the older boy gives him a somber nod and starts walking again. Harry falls into step with him and they make their way to the Quidditch Stadium in comfortable silence. 

 

When they get there, Ludo Bagman and Fleur is already standing at the edge of the pitch. Except it doesn’t look anything like the pitch Harry is used to anymore. The usually smooth grass surface has now been divided into countless compartments by a series of low walls weaving together in an intricate design all across the pitch. 

 

”Hello, hello!” Bagman exclaims.

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the nearest wall and looks over at the Ministry Official, catching him staring back excitedly. 

 

”Hello”, he and Krum mutter in unison. 

 

”What do you think?” Bagman asks, still beaming at Harry. ”Come on, let’s have a closer look!”

 

He steps over the first wall awkwardly and begins to move towards the centre of the pitch. Harry and the other two champions follow him and when they get closer to the first wall, Harry realises it’s actually a hedge. 

 

”Growing nicely!” Bagman says, panting as they stop close to the centre. ”Very nicely! Golly, they weren’t this high when I was inspecting them the other day… oh, there’s Diggory — Hello, hello! Over here!”

 

Harry turns to see the Hufflepuff Sixth Year begin to climb the first hedge, his long limbs flowing over the obstacle seemingly without any effort at all, making him look a lot more graceful than either of them had been. Harry scowls to himself and turns back around to face Bagman, but quickly looks down instead when the man gives him one of his infernal winks. 

 

Finally, Diggory joins them — and he’s not even out of breath, Harry thinks sourly — and Bagman begins talking once more, asking them what they think the hedges are all about. 

 

”Maze”, Krum grunts. 

 

”That’s right!” Bagman exclaims happily. ”The Third Task is very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed here, in the centre of the maze, and your job is to get to it. The first champion to touch the cup will receive full marks — of course, there will be obstacles along the way — Hagrid is supplying a number of creatures for example and there will be spells that need to be broken and that sort of thing!”

 

Harry feels like he’s swallowed a heavy weight. _Spell breaking_ … Glancing around at the other champions, he’s once again reminded of how much older they all are. Thinking back to when he practised Stunning and Disarming with his daddy, he realises he’s so out of his league that it’s ridiculous. 

 

He really doesn’t care about winning — if anything, he would like to come in close second, just to prove to everyone that he’s _capable_ of winning, but without actually winning — that way he would earn the respect of the rest of the school and still please _both_ his dads _and_ Draco and his friends. But by the sounds of it, he’s lucky if he even gets out of the maze alive…

 

”Now, the champion who is in the lead will get a head start into the maze”, Bagman says and beams at Harry again. 

 

Harry tries to smile back, but he’s almost certain that it comes off as a grimace more than anything, which is probably why Bagman seems determined to keep up with him when they all start to climb back over the hedges again. Not wanting to have to turn down any more offers of illegal help, Harry picks up his pace and as soon as he’s heaved himself over the last hedge, he hurries through the gap between the stands hoping to shake Bagman off. 

 

The former Quidditch star is surprisingly quick though, despite being obviously unfit, and Harry can hear him wheezing behind him as he gets closer to the castle. Thinking on his feet, Harry darts off the path and continues to walk down the lawn on the other side. 

 

”Harry!” Bagman calls after him. ”It’s almost curfew, where are you going—?”

 

”I know, it’s okay —!” Harry calls back, then looks around desperately for an excuse, but all that’s in front of him is the forest and the greenhouses, but then he spots Hagrid’s hut and quickly veers towards that instead. ”I’ve got detention with Hagrid!”

 

”I’ll just wait for you then, shall I—?”

 

”That’s okay, I’ll probably be hours!” Harry shouts back, hoping Hagrid isn’t home and has heard him. 

 

He makes a beeline for the paddock next to the small house and darts inside, moving to stand where he knows Bagman won’t be able to see him. He then stands very still and listens for any approaching footsteps, but it would seem as though the man has finally taken the hint. 

 

Harry gives it another few minutes, then carefully leans forward to check if the coast is clear. 

 

The lawn is empty. 

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry begins to walk out of the paddock again. He’s just about to make his way back to the castle when he remembers Bagman saying Hagrid would supply a bunch of creatures that would be inside the maze during the Third Task. He wonders if he’s already got some of them ready and where he’s keeping them… _can’t hurt to have a poke around,_ he thinks.

 

But a closer inspection of the paddock reveals nothing besides the Beauxbatons horses and Harry can’t see any huge crates anywhere on the lawn around the hut either. He looks towards the forest, thinking it would make sense for the creatures to be kept in there… _I’m not going in there, though…_  

 

Harry is just about to turn back to the castle, when he sees something move between the trees. Hunching down, he peers intently into the darkness of the forest. 

 

Suddenly, a man comes stumbling out from behind a massive oak tree and Harry’s heart jumps into his throat. Steeling himself for a possible attack, Harry fumbles with his wand.

 

But the man doesn’t attempt to attack Harry. He doesn’t even appear to see him at all. Instead, he stumbles forward and looks around him wildly, gesturing with twitchy movements and muttering to himself… except, he seems to think he’s talking to someone, Harry thinks and begins to approach the man cautiously. 

 

It’s not until he’s a few meters away that he realises he actually knows who the man is. His ruffled appearance and long, matted hair and overgrown moustache has made him nearly unrecognisable, but as Harry steps closer he can tell that it’s none other than Barty Crouch… but what’s happened to him? Harry thinks in alarm. 

 

The man’s robes are torn and bloody, his gaunt face is scratched like he’s been stumbling through the forest for days — and maybe he has, he certainly looks exhausted enough! 

 

”… and when you’ve done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the Tournament”, the man tells the oak tree. ”Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve—”

 

”Mr Crouch?” Harry says, taking another couple of careful steps closer to him. 

 

The man’s head twitches in his direction, but then his eyes focus on the tree again and he continues raving about the preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, his hand movements growing more and more frantic. Then suddenly he cuts himself off and just stares silently at the tree, his eyes bulging. Harry takes another step closer to him. 

 

”Mr Crouch, are you all right —?”

 

With a sudden spasmodic jerk of his head, Mr Crouch flings himself backwards and lands in a sprawling heap at Harry’s feet, his eyes rolling back into his head. Harry springs forward and crouches next to him, reaching out to tap the man’s chest hesitantly. 

 

”Mr Crouch? Mr Crouch!”

 

”Dumbledore!” the man gasps and surges upwards, knocking Harry back as he clambers to grab onto his robes. ”I need to see… Dumbledore… I’ve done… stupid thing…”

 

He groans, his eyes bulging and rolling again. Harry tries to pry his fingers away from his robes and scrambles back from him. 

 

”O-Okay, okay, we’ll go see Dumbledore…” he says as calmly as he can. ”If you just… let go of me and get up, I’ll… I’ll take you up to the castle, okay?”

 

”Must… tell… Dumbledore”, Mr Crouch gasps quietly, his fingers finally falling away from Harry’s robes front and he crumbles to the ground again. ”All my… fault… have to tell… Dumbledore…”

 

”Okay, well, get up, Mr Crouch”, Harry says, getting to his feet shakily. ”Mr Crouch, get up!”

 

The man clutches his dirty hair with another groan, as though he’s in extreme pain. Harry hesitates, not really wanting the man to grab ahold of him again and pull him down… 

 

”Mr Crouch”, he says loudly and sternly. ”Get up!”

 

The man flinches as though Harry has kicked him, but then he lets go of his hair again and looks up at Harry with bulging eyes. For the first time they seem completely focused, like he’s really seeing Harry and for a second, Harry feels relieved, but then there’s a flash of fear in the man’s eyes and he cringes back.

 

”Who are… you?” he whispers. 

 

”I’m a student at the school”, Harry says calmly. ”I will take you to see Dumbledore, if you just get—”

 

”Dumbledore?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says. ”If you just—”

 

”You’re not… _his?_ ”

 

”What?” Harry snaps impatiently. 

 

”You’re… Dumbledore’s? Not… not _his?_ ”

 

”I’m… no”, Harry says, having no idea who the man is talking about. ”No, I’m not. I can help—”

 

”Get… Dumbledore…”

 

”Fine!” Harry huffs. ”I’ll go get Dumbledore, if you just stay here…”

 

”Thank you, Weatherby”, Mr Crouch says swiftly, his voice strong and clear again as he snaps his attention back to the oak tree. ”And when you’ve done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert with Mr and Mrs Fudge… yes, my son has recently gained twelve OWLs, most satisfactorily, yes, thank you, yes, I’m very proud indeed… now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister—”

 

Sirius had been right when he said Mr Crouch had gone round the bend… he seems to think his wife and son are stil alive, but according to Harry’s dads, both of them have been dead for over ten years!

 

Feeling a twinge of sympathy for the man, Harry shakes his head and starts to back away from him. Immediately, Mr Crouch lets out a wail and throws himself at Harry. Locking his arms around his legs, he begs Harry not to leave him. 

 

Harry loses his balance and falls to the ground heavily. With his heart pounding in his chest, he begins to scramble backwards, kicking Mr Crouch off.

 

”Please…” the man gasps desperately. ”Must warn… Dumbledore… my fault… Bertha… dead… my son… my fault…  tell Dumbledore… Harry Potter… the Dark Lord… stronger… Harry… Harry Potter… tell… tell Dumbledore…”

 

”All right, already!” Harry shouts. ”I’m getting him! But I can’t get him unless I leave!”

 

”No, please, don’t… leave… me…” he trails off faintly, his eyes rolling back into his head. 

 

”Just wait here, I’ll be quick”, Harry says and jumps to his feet again. ”I’m getting Dumbledore, okay? Just wait here!”

 

Harry turns around and begins to run back to the castle. He sprints up the stone steps, through the oak front doors and across the Entrance Hall, his steps echoing eerily around him. Taking the marble stairs two at a time, he finally reaches the second floor and comes to a thudding stop in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office. 

 

It then occurs to Harry that he has no idea what the password is. The last time he’d visited the Headmaster’s Office, back in Second Year, it had been _Sherbet lemon_ , but he has no idea what it might be now…

 

”Sherbet lemon?” he says hopefully, but nothing happens. 

 

The stone gargoyle remains still, glaring back at Harry almost smugly. Harry scowls at it. 

 

”Just… _Move!_ I need to see the Headmaster, it’s an emergency!”

 

The stone gargoyle continues to glare back at him. Stubbornly still. Looking around desperately, Harry tries to think… he can go to the staff room, and hope someone is still there. It’s not that late, he thinks doubtfully. Well, it’s his best bet anyway. If that fails, he’ll run down to the dungeons and try and find Professor Snape. 

 

Mind made up, Harry begins to run in the direction of the staff room. But he’s only made it a few metres, when a familiar voice calls his name. Skidding to an abrupt halt, Harry wheels back around. 

 

The stone gargoyle has moved aside, revealing the hidden staircase behind and Professor Snape is stepping off the revolving spiral stairs. He looks just as grim as usual, his dark eyes narrowed into suspicious slits as he beckons Harry closer. Feeling a surge of relief, Harry runs back and nearly crashes into the man in his eagerness. 

 

”What do you think you’re doing out of bed—?”

 

”Professor!” Harry gasps. ”I need to get Dumbledore! — It’s Mr Crouch, Sir — in the forest — in a bad way, raving mad!”

 

”What?” Snape hisses. 

 

”He kept talking about his family like they’re alive, but then — said something about warning Dumbledore about the Dark Lord and — and he mentioned me and — someone called Bertha being dead, and that it’s all his fault!”

 

”Come with me…” Snape says swiftly and turns back to the gargoyle. 

 

But before he’s had a chance to give the new password, the gargoyle springs to life again and moves to the side and Professor Dumbledore steps down from the spiral staircase and out into the corridor. He looks between Professor Snape and Harry with a subtle frown. 

 

”Is there a problem—?”

 

”I don’t know”, Professor Snape says. ”Harry says he’s found Barty in the Forest.”

 

”In the Forest?” Dumbledore repeats in surprise, turning to Harry.

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says. ”And he says he needs to talk to you, warn you!”

 

”Well, then… lead the way, Harry!” Dumbledore says quickly. 

 

Harry nods and quickly spins back around and starts hurrying down the corridor, both professors close on his heal. 

 

”What exactly did Mr Crouch say, Harry?” Dumbledore asks as they descend the marble staircase. 

 

”He wasn’t making much sense”, Harry says. ”He kept saying he needs to warn you about something that’s his fault and he mentioned his son and someone called Bertha…”

 

”And you said he mentioned the Dark Lord”, Professor Snape says. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry nods, slipping out the front doors as his Head of House holds it open for him. ”He mentioned him and then me as well… but half the time he didn’t even seem to know where he was, he kept talking to a tree like it was his assistant, asking it to make him a cup of tea and talking about the preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, like he thought it was still summer… but then he said something about his son just passing his OWLs as well…”

 

Harry stumbles over his own feet, trying to keep up with the professors who have both begun to walk quicker and quicker as he’s told them everything. Professor Snape reaches out to steady him, without breaking his stride. Dumbledore walking ahead of them, his lit wand held aloft. 

 

”This way?” he asks Harry over his shoulder. 

 

”Little to the left”, Harry gasps, jogging to keep up. 

 

Harry can see the large oak tree that Mr Crouch had been in conversation with and points it out to the Headmaster, but when they reach it Crouch isn’t there anymore… 

 

”He was right here”, Harry says, looking around. ”He was talking to this tree…”

 

”You’re sure it was this one, Harry?” Snape says quietly. 

 

”Yes, Sir, I’m positive!”

 

Dumbledore holds his wand out and steps around the massive tree trunk. 

 

”Oh…” they hear him sigh. 

 

”What, what is it—?” Harry says, following him. 

 

”Harry, wait—” Snape says quickly. 

 

He grabs at Harry’s arm, but it’s too late… In the dim sphere of Dumbledore’s _Lumos_ spell, Harry can see a pair of feet sticking out from behind the tree. He immediately recognises the black leather shoes as those of Mr Crouch. Heart stuttering in his chest, Harry tells himself the man must have fainted again… but gazing up into the Headmaster’s face, drained of blood and with a deep frown etched onto it, he knows it’s worse than that. 

 

”Harry, come on…” Snape says quietly, looping an arm around his shoulders and gently and pulling him back. ”I’ll take you to the Common Room…”

 

”But…” 

 

”Go with Professor Snape, Harry…” Dumbledore says, his light blue eyes flitting from the body on the ground to lock with his own. ”There’s nothing you can do here…”

 

Harry swallows thickly and nods, allowing himself to be guided around by Snape.

 

”Oh, and Severus”, Dumbledore adds. ”Alert Alastor, will you—?”

 

”No need, Headmaster…” a gruff voice growls suddenly. 

 

They all turn to see Moody come hobbling out of the darkness, along the edge of the Forest, looking grimmer than ever. 

 

”I heard Potter shouting, came as soon as I could”, he grunts.

 

Harry frowns. He hadn’t been _shouting_ … Glancing up into Professor Snape’s face, he can tell his Head of House looks sceptical as well. But Dumbledore seems satisfied with the explanation. 

 

”Come on, Harry…” Snape says again. 

 

Harry falls into step with him and they walk back up to the castle in silence. For the first time since Hallowe’en, Harry is reminded of the seriousness of someone entering him into the Tournament. He’s been so wrapped up in his worry about getting through the actual tasks, that he’s forgotten why he was scared in the first place, and why his dads and the professors have been worried about him — sure, part of the reason is the danger of the actual tasks, but Harry knows now that he’s never been in any real danger, none of the champions have — but there is a real danger… 

 

There is someone who wants to do him real harm, and it’s not a dragon or a merperson, it’s a human being, probably a Death Eater… and whoever they are, they’ve just murdered Barty Crouch, because he was going to warn Dumbledore…

 

Professor Snape walks him to the Common Room and finally turns to face him for the first time since they left the Forest. His eyes are clouded with worry, but he keeps his face neutral and calm. Harry swallows nervously. 

 

”Try and get some sleep”, Snape says quietly. 

 

”Yeah, I’ll… I’ll try…” 

 

”Whatever you do, don’t leave the dormitory. Any letters you might want to send, can wait until morning… is that understood?”

 

Harry nods quickly. 

 

”All right… good night, then, Harry…”

 

Professor Snape remains standing in the middle of the Common Room until Harry has disappeared into the Fourth Year’s boys’ dorm. 

 

”There you are!” Draco hisses from his four-poster bed. ”Where have you been?”

 

Harry looks around at the other beds to make sure the other boys are sleeping, then walks over and sits down at the foot of Draco’s bed and tells him everything. 

 

”D-Dead?” Draco squeaks. ”But…”

 

”I don’t know who killed him”, Harry says. ”If only I had brought the map with me… I might have caught their name before they left the grounds…”

 

”Well…” Draco says hoarsely. ”Just as well…”

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”I mean, you don’t want to get on the wrong foot with a… a murderer… do you…”

 

”I think it’s a little late for that”, Harry says wryly. 

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”I think whoever killed Mr Crouch is the same person who put my name in the Goblet of Fire… it’s just too much of a coincidence, think about it… plus Crouch mentioned me when he was rambling, he said something about the Dark Lord getting stronger and then he said my name…”

 

Draco’s eyes grow impossibly round in the gloom and Harry can see his throat working frantically. 

 

”Hey…” he murmurs and scrambles up the bed and curls up next to the other boy, giving him a small but reassuring smile. ”It’s okay… we’re safe here…”

 

”How can you say that?” Draco whispers, staring at him. 

 

”Well, because… because we’re at _Hogwarts_ … we’re in _our dorm_ —”

 

”Harry”, Draco croaks, shaking his head. ”If they put your name in the Goblet of Fire, that means they can get _inside Hogwarts!_ ”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest, but he keeps his face neutral. 

 

”Well, they can’t get inside the dorm”, he says with a certainty he definitely doesn’t feel. 

 

Draco just shakes his head again. 

 

Next morning, Draco accompanies Harry to the owlery so that he can send his letter to his dads off before they head to the Great Hall for breakfast. He’d debated with himself for hours the night before, while he lay curled up next to Draco, unable to fall asleep, whether it was really a good idea to tell his dads about Mr Crouch, knowing how much they’ll worry… but finally, he’d decided that if they were to hear about it from someone else and he hasn’t told them, it will be a lot worse. 

 

So as soon as he woke up, he grabbed some parchment and borrowed one of Draco’s ink wells and jotted down a quick message telling them all about it, but made sure to put an emphasis on him being all right and safe. 

 

They’re only halfway through breakfast when Hedwig arrives with his dads’ reply. 

 

Sighing heavily, Harry unties the small roll of parchment from her leg. An immediate reply can only mean bad news… the fact that Hedwig doesn’t take off again, but waits for him to read the letter, only confirms that his dads are upset… 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> ”Harry, 
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think you’re playing at, walking around the Forbidden Forest alone at night? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to leave the castle alone after dark again! 
> 
>  
> 
> A highly dangerous witch or wizard is on the loose and we know they have it in for you, Harry! They put your name in the Goblet of Fire, and that is not a matter that should be taken lightly, just because you’ve done all right in the tournament so far! 
> 
>  
> 
> If what you’ve told us about last night is true, this person obviously has no qualms about committing murder, and they must have been only feet away from you last night! DO YOU REALISE HOW CLOSE YOU WERE TO BEING KILLED?
> 
>  
> 
> You need to be more careful Harry, I mean it — do not put yourself at risk again, do you hear me? I’m sorry about Crouch, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. You need to look after yourself now. Whoever is trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance now with the third task. PLEASE BE CAREFUL!
> 
>  
> 
> I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you will stay safe from now on. 
> 
>  
> 
> Love
> 
> your daddy”
> 
>  

 

Harry sighs again, hanging his head. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Draco says immediately. 

 

”My dads…” Harry mutters, rubbing his hand over his face, feeling the lack of sleep even stronger now. ”I need to write them another letter, before DADA… I’ll see you in the classroom, okay?”

 

He climbs off the bench and holds out his arm for Hedwig. She immediately flaps her wings and flies over to him, landing gracefully on top of his arm, then digging her talons into his school robes and climbing to the top of his shoulder. He gives her a tired smile as she nips affectionately at his ear. 

 

”Okay”, Draco says, worrying his lip. 

 

”It’s fine”, Harry says. ”They’re just… a bit angry with me… for being in the forest in the first place.”

 

”Yeah, I get that”, Draco says. ”I didn’t want to say anything last night ’cause you were a bit upset, but really—”

 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry mutters. ”Don’t _you_ start as well… I’ll see you later.”

 

Having to go all the way back to the owlery again, Harry arrives late for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Moody doesn’t say anything. Just gives him a small nod of acknowledgement when he gasps out an apology. He looks just as tired as Harry feels, his good eye drooping with exhaustion that makes his face look even more lop-sided. 

 

Harry hurries over to where Draco is sitting and slides into the seat next to him. 

 

”All right?” the blonde murmurs under his breath. 

 

Harry nods, keeping his gaze fixed on Moody. 

 

As the bell rings at the end of the lesson, Harry lingers behind. Draco and his friends stop inside the door and look expectantly at him. 

 

”Just a sec…” he says, walking up the aisle towards the Teacher’s Desk where Moody sits slumped in his chair. ”Professor?”

 

”What is it, Potter?” the man grunts. 

 

”Did you… did you find them?”

 

The magical eye swivels around to fix on Harry’s face. It makes Harry’s skin prickle uncomfortably, but he stands his ground and keeps his own eyes fixed on the man’s dark eye. 

 

”No… nothing… whoever killed Barty must have got away while you were up at the castle…”

 

”What were _you_ doing out there, Sir?” Harry asks carefully. ”You told Dumbledore you heard me—?”

 

The magical eye seems to be quivering in its socket and a grim smile stretches the Ex-Auror’s lop-sided mouth. Harry represses a shiver. 

 

”I was inspecting the maze… when I saw Karkaroff lurking about, and I decided to… well, inspect _him_ as well… I shadowed him until he went onboard that monstrosity of a ship of his, and was just about to head back to the castle when I heard you…”

 

”Okay…” Harry says. 

 

”I like the way your mind works, Potter…” Moody says, his horrible grin stretching even wider. ”You’d make a decent Auror…”

 

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles, smiling back awkwardly. 

 

When he joins his friends at the door, Draco leans in close and hisses, ”Before you get any ideas, can I just point out… _He_ was a _great_ Auror…”

 

”Relax”, Harry mutters. 

 

Despite the spring sun shining down on the castle, the fire is as ever lit in Divination classroom, turning the cramped room into a oven. Within minutes, Harry is boiling under his robes… but despite this, the lack of sleep the night before starts to catch up to him in the dim light, especially when Professor Trelawny dims it even further by extinguishing all the lamps, so that they can all study a miniature of Mars inside a glass dome that she places in the middle of the classroom. 

 

Soon the heavy incense combined with the gentle drone of Trelawny’s voice lulls Harry into a light doze. No matter how hard he struggles to keep his eyes open, the lids grow heavier and heavier… he turns his head slightly to catch some of the fresh air he feels trickling in through a small gap in one of the windows, spotting the shadow of an insect of some sort as it flits back and forth on the other side of the curtained window, as if trying to get inside… 

 

 _Stupid bug_ , Harry thinks. _Should be glad to be outside in the fresh air… It would die in here… I’m dying in here…_

 

He’s riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring across the bright blue sky, the breeze cooling his skin… A hill rises up in front of them and on top of it stands a house covered in ivy. The owl plummets and soars in through a broken window on the top floor of the house, then continues to fly through the house, until they reach a dark room at the very end of the gloomy passage. The windows in this room are all boarded up. 

 

Harry drops from the back of the owl and watches as it flutters over to an armchair standing on the other side of the room with its high back facing Harry. Looking down, he sees two dark shapes on the floor on either side of the chair, both of them stirring awake… One is a huge snake… and the other a plump little man with a balding head and watery, beady eyes… _Wormtail,_ Harry thinks with a pang. 

 

”You are in luck, Wormtail…” a cold, high-pitched voice hisses from the armchair, confirming Harry’s thought. ”You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead.”

 

”Mr Lord!” Wormtail gasps, sitting up and cowering slightly, his whole body trembling. ”My Lord, I am — I am so pleased — so pleased and s-sorry!”

 

”Nagini”, the cold voice continues with a hiss. ”You are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you after all…”

 

The snake coils a little tighter and hisses… _you promised…_

 

”Never mind, never mind… there is still Harry Potter… Now, Wormtail”, the voice adds in a harder voice. ”Perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you…”

 

”My Lord, no… I beg you—”

 

The tip of a wand appears from behind the back of the armchair, pointing at the trembling man’s chest. 

 

” _Crucio!_ ”

 

Wormtail collapses on the floor with a blood-curdling scream, his whole body convulsing in violent spasms that reminds Harry briefly of the spider in Defence Against the Dark Arts, before his scar suddenly bursts open and he can’t think of anything but the pain and Wormtail’s screams anymore… the screams grow higher and higher… Harry is screaming too… he can’t help it, the pain is too much… Voldemort will hear him and know he’s right here, he’ll kill him… but it doesn’t matter, because he can’t keep the screams in —

 

”Harry! HARRY!”

 

Someone is shaking him. He thrashes around, swatting at them, but the hands are stubborn and insistent. He blinks his eyes open and jerks up, scrambling up to sitting… the whole class is standing around him, staring in alarm and Draco… Draco is kneeling next to him on the floor, watching him with terrified eyes… 

 

Harry looks around and realises he must have fallen off his chintz chair and… was I screaming too? he thinks frantically, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Sweat is pouring down his forehead. He wipes his sleeve across his face and hisses in pain as the rough material brushes against his scar… _so the pain was real… what the hell…_

 

”Harry, are you all right?” Draco asks in a hushed voice. 

 

”I’m… I’m fine…” Harry lies. 

 

”Of course he isn’t”, Trewlawny exclaims importantly, ignoring his answer altogether. ”What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?”

 

He twists around and stares up at her with a frown. Her magnified eyes are bulging more than ever behind her spectacles and she looks positively excited. 

 

”Nothing”, he says quickly. 

 

”Come now, boy!” Trelawny says impatiently. ”I have experience in these matters, I can help you make sense of your vision!”

 

”I didn’t have a vision!” Harry snaps angrily. 

 

”You were clutching your scar! You were rolling around on the floor, screaming—!”

 

 _Great,_ Harry thinks, swallowing a surge of bile. 

 

”I… I have to go to the Hospital Wing, I think”, he mumbles. ”I have a… a headache…”

 

”My dear”, Trelawny says, fluttering her shawls around her impatiently. ”You were undoubtedly affected by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room, if you leave you may lose the opportunity to see further—”

 

”Fine by me”, Harry mutters, struggling to stand on his shaky legs. 

 

”I’ll take him to the Hospital Wing, Professor”, Draco says, looping an arm around Harry’s waist before grabbing his bag from the floor. ”Come on…”

 

As soon as they’ve reached the bottom of the stepladder, Draco turns to him with worried eyes. 

 

”I don’t actually need to go to the Hospital Wing, I’m fine”, Harry assures him quickly. 

 

”What do you want to do?” Draco asks. 

 

”I just need some fresh air, I think… and I should probably write to my dads and tell them…”

 

Draco nods quickly, digging out some parchment and a quill from his bag. They walk to the owlery and Harry lowers himself to the ground and sits cross-legged. Draco pulls a face at the owl dropping on the floor and remains standing while he waits for Harry to jot down the message quickly.

 

He doesn’t want to disturb Hedwig’s sleep again, having already done so twice already today, so he pokes one of the school owls instead and ties the letter to its leg with trembling fingers. 

 

After the owl has taken off towards Hogsmeade, Harry and Draco make their way down from the owlery again and go for a stroll round the edge of the lake until Harry’s headache and nausea dissipates. Then he tells Draco all about the dream. He’s just finished telling him about his scar beginning to hurt, when the school owl comes soaring towards them.

 

”That was quick”, Draco says. ”They must think it’s serious…”

 

”Not necessarily”, Harry says, even though he silently agrees. ”My daddy would stop whatever he was doing to write back to me if I just complained about feeling homesick or worrying about some essay…”

 

When he unrolls the parchment however, he immediately recognises the handwriting as Sirius’ and not Remus’ and all the short message says is to go see Dumbledore and tell him everything. 

 

Harry and Draco stare at each other. 

 

”He can’t be serious”, Harry says flatly. 

 

”He sounds dead serious”, Draco says. ”Come on…” 

 

”But… I can’t just waltz into Dumbledore’s office, that’s absurd!” 

 

”Harry, this is serious!” Draco says sternly, folding his arms. 

 

”I just had a nightmare—!” 

 

”It wasn’t just a dream, you know it wasn’t”, Draco counters. ”You even said so yourself!” 

 

”Yeah, but Dumbledore… I dunno…” Harry mumbles, looking up at the castle uncertainly. 

 

If he goes to Dumbledore, the whole thing will be so much more serious suddenly. _It will be… official and…_  

 

”Fine, we don’t have to go to Dumbledore”, Draco says. ”But let’s go tell Snape at least…” 

 

”Okay”, Harry says, relenting. 

 

He doesn’t mind going to Snape who is his Head of House, that’s what he’s there for. Headaches and minor worries. Going to him doesn’t necessarily make the whole thing seem bigger. It might even make it seem smaller, if the Potions Master tells him not to worry about it and just gives him a Pain-Relieving Potion and sends him on his way… Harry is so cheered up by the thought of this, he is genuinely shocked when Professor Snape’s eyes immediately widen in alarm at the first mention of You-Know-Who and he trails of uncertainly. 

 

”And what was he doing? Who else was there?” Snape prompts. 

 

”Erm, well, Wormt-t-tail was there, I mean, ehm, Peter Pettigrew… and eh, the snake and ehm, yeah…”

 

Snape presses his thin lips together grimly and promptly tells Harry to follow him. 

 

”What? Wh-where—?” Harry stammers, stumbling after the man as he strides off down the dungeon corridor. 

 

”To see Dumbledore”, Snape says shortly. 

 

”Really?” Harry more or less whines. ”But I just had a bad dream…”

 

Professor Snape ignores his comment, and so does Draco. Resigning himself to his fate, Harry shoves his hands into his pockets and stomps after the two of them. 

 

”Draco, you don’t have to accompany us”, Snape says as an after-thought, as soon as they reach the ground floor.

 

”But I want to—!”

 

”I appreciate that, but I really don’t think you should miss Transfiguration.”

 

”Yes, Sir…” the blonde sighs, then glances over at Harry with a pinched smile. ”I’ll tell Professor McGonagall you’ll be late…”

 

Harry nods and watches him take off down the corridor at the top of the first landing, while Snape leads him down the passage at which end the large stone gargoyle is situated. He almost has to jog to keep up with Professor Snape and jumps slightly when the man swears suddenly, glaring at his arm watch. 

 

”I’m going to be late for my next lesson”, he mutters. ”I’ll let just you through, but then I have to leave you.”

 

”Okay…” Harry says. 

 

He would never admit it out loud, but he rather wishes Professor Snape would stay at his side. The thought of meeting with Professor Dumbledore alone, makes his stomach churn. Not that the Headmaster is strict in the slightest, quite the opposite… but he always makes Harry feel awkward. It’s just something about his twinkling eyes that seem to see right through Harry, an ability he happens to share with Professor Snape but for some reason, Harry is more okay with Snape reading him. It’s just different. He knows Snape. He knows him well — the man is always looking out for him, in his own special way. 

 

”Cockroach cluster”, the man barks at the stone gargoyle now, and it immediately jumps aside to reveal the revolving staircase behind. ”There… Make sure you tell the Headmaster everything you can remember, Harry. It’s very important.”

 

”O-Okay…” Harry says and nods. 

 

Snape gives him a curt nod, then swirls around and begins to stride back the same way they’d come. Harry watches him disappear down the corridor, but then hurries to jump onto the spiral staircase before the gargoyle decides to jump back again. He knows the password now, but he wouldn’t put it past the Griffin to decide to change it suddenly, just to make life difficult for Harry… 

 

At the top of the stairs, Harry comes face to face with an oak door and a brass door-knocker that he remembers from the last time he was here, when Professor McGonagall brought him to see the Headmaster. That time, the circular office had been empty, except for Fawkes the phoenix, but now Harry can hear voices through the door. 

 

”…don’t see the connection, at all”, a man’s voice says and Harry is sure he recognises it from somewhere. ”Ludo says Bertha is perfectly capable of getting herself lost, and although I agree that we had expected to find her by now, all the same… no evidence of foul play, none at all… and that her disappearance should linked with… with… the terrible thing that’s happened to poor old Barty, well, that’s just preposterous…”

 

”And what exactly do you think’s happened to Barty, think he slipped and fell, Minister?” Moody’s distinctive growl cuts through the other man’s tirade. 

 

Minister, Harry thinks. I knew I recognised the voice. It’s Fudge. He must be here about Mr Crouch.

 

”Well, I hesitate to make any statements until a full investigation… but informally… suppose I have to express concern… from what I understand the body was found in the near vicinity of the Beauxbatons carriage? I mean to say… Dumbledore, you know what that woman is…”

 

”I consider her to be a very able Headmistress”, Dumbledore’s quiet voice can be heard. ”And a formidable dancer.”

 

”Come now, Dumbledore!” Fudge splutters. ”Is this positive prejudice, because of your acquaintance with Hagrid? You know, they don’t _all_ turn out harmless… if Hagrid can even be called harmless, with that fixation he has with monsters…”

 

”I no more suspect Madame Maxime, than I suspect Hagrid, Minister”, Dumbledore says, just as quietly and calmly as before. ”I do believe it is you, Cornelius, that is prejudiced…”

 

”Me? Prejudiced—?”

 

”Gentlemen”, Moody interrupts. ”I suggest we wrap this up, because I believe Potter wants a word with the Headmaster… he’s just outside the door…”

 

Harry jumps back from the door guiltily. In the next moment, it swings open and Moody grins at him. 

 

”Hello, Potter… Come on in…”

 

”Thanks”, Harry mutters, ducking his head to hide his blush. 

 

He squeezes past the Ex-Auror awkwardly and stops just inside the door. Dumbledore is sitting behind his massive desk and Cornelius Fudge is standing next to him, wearing his pinstriped cloak and fidgeting with his lime green bowler hat. 

 

”Harry, my boy!” he exclaims suddenly and beams at him. ”How are you?”

 

”Fine”, Harry says, looking away. 

 

The walls of the office are lines with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, all of which are fast asleep, just like the last time Harry was here. 

 

”How may I help you, Harry?” Dumbledore asks gently. 

 

”Dumbledore”, Fudge protests. ”I really have to get back to the Ministry, so if we could get this over with—?”

 

”Yes, of course”, Dumbledore says. ”Harry, will you wait here for me while I show the Minister the… the grounds? It shan’t take too long.”

 

”Fine”, Harry says again. 

 

The three wizards file out of the office, leaving Harry alone with the sleeping portraits and Fawkes, who’s perched on his peg, also fast asleep by the looks of it, his head tucked under one wing. Harry sighs and looks around idly. On a shelf behind Dumbledore’s desk the Sorting Hat sits, immobile — _sleeping as well?_ he thinks wryly. _It’s all a go in here today_ — and next to the Sorting Hat, mounted inside a glass case, is the large sword that Harry pulled out of the Hat when he was fighting the basilisk inside the Chamber of Secrets in Second Year. 

 

Walking a little closer to the desk, Harry peers up at it. It’s really a beautiful sword. He never really looked that closely at it at the time, but now he sees the gold hilt is encrusted with beautiful rubies that glint in the sunlight streaming in from the window next to it. And along the blade itself, Harry sees a name has been etched… _Godric Gryffidor…_ _Wait…. This is_ the _Sword of Gryffindor?_  

 

Harry blinks in surprise. He’s read about the Sword of Gryffindor in _Hogwarts: a history._ But he thought the sword only presented itself to _Gryffindors_ in need… _Guess not,_ he thinks. 

 

Looking around, Harry sighs again. Now that his scar has stopped hurting and his nausea has subsided, the whole thing feels even more ridiculous and he really just wants to leave again. But he’d promised Professor Snape he would tell Dumbledore everything, so sits down in the chair in front of the desk and waits for the Headmaster to return. 

 

Something shimmers in his peripheral and he looks up at the Sword of Gryffindor again, but it’s not the sword that’s caught his eye… it’s a patch of light on the glass case itself. Harry turns around to see where it’s coming from and discovers a black cabinet that hasn’t been closed properly. Through the crack in the door, something shines with a silverly light. 

 

Glancing at the door quickly, Harry hops to his feet and approaches the cabinet. He opens the door carefully and looks inside. 

 

Inside sits a stone basin with what appears to be runes carved along the edge. The silvery light turns out to be from the basin’s content, which looks like liquid, but not like any liquid Harry has ever seen before… it looks both misty and shimmering at the same time, and seems to swirl of its own accord… as Harry looks at it, the very surface of the liquid separates like small clouds and he’s not even sure if it is a liquid anymore, it looks almost more like a gas… but then the small clouds come together once more and begin to move like the surface of the lake when a strong breeze hits it. 

 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry grabs his wand from inside his robes and prods the silvery substance carefully. 

 

Immediately, the surface of the silvery substance begins to swirl incredible fast. It almost makes Harry dizzy to look at, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes away… feeling oddly drawn to the substance, he bends his head closer and stares into the basin from right above… the substance has become completely transparent now and when Harry looks down, it’s like he’s looking through a small circular window, but instead of seeing the bottom of the basin, he finds himself looking into a room. Gasping with excitement, Harry bends his head a little closer and tilts it this way and that, to get a better look inside the dimly lit room. Rows upon rows of benches line the walls in levels, filled with witches and wizards all gazing at an empty chair standing in the middle of the room. 

 

Squinting at the chair, Harry feels his stomach churn. Something about it seems _off…_ and then he sees it: chains attached to the arms of it, as though its occupant would need to be forcefully tied to it. _What_ is _this place?_ he thinks. 

 

He tries to tilt his head a little more, so that he can see into the corners of the room, and before he knows it his nose has brushed the surface of the substance. No sooner has the cool sensation registered with him, than the entire Headmaster’s Office gives a massive lurch under his feet and he feels himself falling… 

 

Suddenly he’s sitting in one of the benches. Looking around in a panic, Harry expects the somber witches and wizards around him to seize him and chain him to the chair, but no-one seems to have noticed his arrival at all… They all keep staring — not at the empty chair, as Harry had thought — but at a door in far corner of the room.

 

Harry turns to the wizard sitting next to him and immediately jumps in surprise, because the wizard is none other than Professor Dumbledore. 

 

”P-Professor!” he gasps. ”I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sir?…”

 

But Dumbledore ignores him, just like everyone else. Frowning, Harry looks around. Something about this whole thing feels familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He turns to Dumbledore again.

 

”Professor Dumbledore”, he says in a loud voice. ”Excuse me, Sir? Can you hear me? _Hey, you old coot!_ ”

 

Nothing. 

 

”You can’t hear me…” Harry mutters, and just to be sure he waves his hand in front of the Headmaster’s face. ”Or see me… I’m not actually here…”

 

And then he remembers. Diving into Tom Riddle’s memory of when he’d framed Hagrid for the death of Moaning Myrtle, through his diary… He’d been able to walk around inside the memory, but no-one had seen or heard him then either. He’d just been a voyeur inside something that had already happened years and years ago. Something tells him that this is something similar to that. Except he hadn’t dived into a diary this time… 

 

Suddenly the door in the corner opens and a man is dragged inside by two other men — or, are they men? Harry thinks doubtfully as he stares at the dark, cloaked figures — whatever they are, they seem to glide soundlessly over the floor, grasping the man with hands that look half rotted, dragging him towards the chair and depositing him almost ceremoniously into it. Immediately the chains spring to life and coil around his arms and torso, securing him to the chair. 

 

The man, who had more or less been hanging in the figures grasp, looking like he might faint at any moment, suddenly springs to life as well as soon as the figures have glided away from him. He starts thrashing in the confines of the chains and as he tosses his head back, his long, dirty hair moves out of his face and Harry gasps. 

 

Although he is at least ten years younger and his hair and goatee are black not grey, Harry immediately recognises —

 

”Igor Karkaroff”, a cold voice says curtly to Harry’s left and leans forward to see who it is and gasps again, recognising a much younger Barty Crouch, his hair dark and his face less lined. ”You have been brought from Azkaban to give evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us.”

 

”I have, Sir”, Karkaroff wheezes. ”I wish to be of use to the Ministry… I wish to help… I know that the Ministry is trying to… to round up the Dark Lord’s supporters and I am… eager to assist…”

 

There is a murmurs around the benches. 

 

”Filth”, a familiar growling voice grunts from the other side of Dumbledore and Harry leans forward to see Mad-Eye Moody sitting there, except he looks much more like a person now, his face not nearly as mangled, although his nose is still missing a chunk he’s got both his eyes still. ”Took me six months to track the bastard down and now Crouch is going to release him again, if he gets enough new names from him… outrageous… let’s hear his information, then throw him back in Azkaban to rot, I say… or better yet, let the Dementors have their way with him…”

 

Dumbledore says nothing, but frowns slightly. Moody notices as well and chuckles humourlessly. 

 

”Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot… you don’t like the Dementors, do you, Albus?”

 

”No, indeed I don’t”, Dumbledore says calmly. ”I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures…”

 

”You say you have names for us, Karkaroff?” Mr Crouch says curtly. ”Let’s have them, then…”

 

”You have to understand”, Karkaroff says breathlessly, his whole body trembling inside the confines of the chains. ”that He Who Must Not Be Named operated always in the greatest secrecy, he preferred that we — that’s to say his supporters — and I regret now that I ever counted myself among them —”

 

”Get on with it”, Moody growls, a little louder this time, so that more people can hear him and Harry can see a few people nod in agreement. 

 

”— we never knew the names of every one of our fellows, he alone knew exactly who we all were —”

 

”Yet you say you have _some_ names for us?” Crouch presses. 

 

”I — I do”, Karkaroff says. ”And these were important supporters, as well… people I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding… I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with remorse so deeply—”

 

”These names are?” Crouch snaps impatiently. 

 

”Well, there’s Antonin Dolohov”, Karkaroff says quickly. ”I — I saw him torture countless Muggles and — and non-supporters of the Dark Lord—”

 

”And helped him do it”, Moody growls. 

 

”We have already apprehended Dolohov”, Crouch says swiftly. ”He was caught shortly after yourself.”

 

”I-Indeed”, Karkaroff says, his eyes widening in alarm. ”I — I am delighted to h-hear it!”

 

”Any others?” Crouch says. 

 

”Yes, y-yes of course, there was Rosier — Evan Rosier—”

 

”Rosier is dead”, Crouch cuts him off. 

 

”Took a piece of me with him too”, Moody grunts and chuckles again. 

 

”He was also caught shortly after yourself, but unlike yourself he decided not to come in quietly and was killed in the struggle”, Crouch says matter-of-factly. 

 

”No — no more than he deserved”, Karkaroff croaks, his eyes starting to become panicked now that two of his precious names have turned out to be worthless. 

 

”Any more?”

 

”Yes! There was Travers — he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber — he specialised in the Imperius Curse, forced countless of people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He Who Must Not Be Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!”

 

This time, there is a murmur amongst the people again and Karkaroff, like Harry, realises that he’s managed to surprise them and the relief makes his entire body sag inside the confines of the chains. 

 

”Rookwood?” Crouch says. ”Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?”

 

”Yes, yes”, Karkaroff says eagerly. 

 

”But Travers and Mulciber we have already”, Crouch continues. ”Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide —”

 

”Not yet!” Karkaroff cries desperately, his eyes flitting frantically to see if the hooded creatures will return to grab him. ”Wait, I have more! Snape — _Severus Snape!_ ”

 

Harry stares, sure he must have misheard. 

 

”Snape has been cleared by this council”, Crouch says coldly. ”He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore—”

 

”No!” Karkaroff shouts. ”I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater! In the Dark Lord’s inner circle—!”

 

Dumbledore stands up suddenly, and a hush breaks out across the entire room. 

 

”I have given evidence in this matter already”, he says calmly. ”Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, but prior to the Lord Voldemort’s downfall he turned spy for us at great personal risk… he is now no more a Death Eater than I…”

 

 _Professor Snape — a Death Eater?_ Harry thinks numbly. 

 

He barely even notices when Crouch tells Karkaroff he will be escorted back to Azkaban pending their decision, but he does notice when the entire room seems to shake around him and he blinks in surprise at finding himself sitting in a different place all of the sudden. Dumbledore is still sitting next to him, but Moody is now sitting on the bench behind them and Mr Crouch is standing on their right. 

 

The whole atmosphere in the room seems different too. More relaxed than before. People are chatting amongst themselves happily, but Crouch looks just as sour as he always does… _did,_ Harry corrects himself with pang, remembering the man’s feet sticking out from behind that oak tree… 

 

Feeling his stomach knot, Harry looks up towards the ceiling hopefully. But there is no round window there at all. He has no idea of how he’s supposed to get back to the office. 

 

”Ludo Bagman —” Crouch says sternly. 

 

Harry whips his head around and stares in shock, as a younger and fitter Bagman takes a seat in the chair in the middle of the room. The chains remain lifeless and he sprawls out in the chair, looking exactly as relaxed and happy as Harry is used to seeing him. The only difference is in his appearance. His nose is straight still and his body taut with muscle instead of bulging with a beer gut. Harry realises he must still be in his Quidditch hay day.

 

”—you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters”, Crouch continues.

 

Harry shakes his head — Ludo Bagman _a Death Eater as well? What_ is _this? Soon they’ll be bringing the Sorting Hat out here and accuse that of being a supporter of You-Know-Who!_

 

”Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgement?” Crouch demands. 

 

”Only…” Bagman smiles a little awkwardly. ”Well, I know I’ve been a bit of an idiot…”

 

Harry notice several wizards and witches smile indulgently at him. Crouch’s scowl however only deepens and he looks down at Bagman with pure dislike and distaste. 

 

”Ludovic Bagman”, he says in a loud and carrying voice. ”You were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort’s supporters. For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than—”

 

His voice is immediately drowned by an outcry from the benches. Several witches and wizards shake their heads, and some even shake their fists at Bagman, to show their disagreement. 

 

”But I told, I had no idea!” Bagman cries, his smile falling for the first time. ”None at all! Rookwood is an old friend of my dad’s, it never crossed my mind that he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! Rookwood kept telling me he’d get me a job at the Ministry once my Quidditch days are over… I mean, I can’t keep getting hit by bludgers forever, now can I?”

 

A chorus of chuckles erupts from the benches. 

 

”It will be put to a vote”, Crouch says coldly. ”Members of the Jury… please raise your hands… all those in favour of imprisonment…”

 

Everyone looks towards a section of witches and wizards to the left and Harry looks over as well. Not a single hand is raised. Several people along the walls clap in appreciation. 

 

One of the witches of the Jury stands up gingerly. 

 

”Yes?” Crouch says impatiently. ”What is it?”

 

”We would just like to congratulate Mr Bagman on his marvellous performance against Turkey—”

 

”That’s completely irrelevant!” Crouch barks. 

 

The witch immediately sits down again. But so does Crouch and Bagman is allowed to leave the chair and the courtroom again. He waves jovially at the audience as they applaud him again. 

 

The room dissolves and reassembles around Harry again. This time, he and Dumbledore are still sitting next to Barty Crouch, but the atmosphere is back to tense like it was when everyone was waiting for Karkaroff to be brought in. The room is dead silent, except for the small sobs of one single witch sitting on the other side of Crouch. She looks frail and completely miserable, Harry thinks, feeling a twinge of sympathy for her. 

 

”Bring them in”, Crouch says in an oddly hollow voice. 

 

The door in the corner slides open and six hooded creatures enter this time, gliding soundlessly across the floor as they escort a group of four people to the middle of the room, where not one but four chair stand now. The four people are guided to sit in the chair and the chains spring to life and shackle them into place. 

 

On the far left sits a rather burly man who stares blankly at Crouch. In the chair next to him sits a much thinner man who keeps looking around nervously at the people on the benches and next to him sits a woman who is the very opposite of him. Her back is straight like a rod and she stares steadily up at Crouch with heavy-lidded, almost excited eyes. Unlike the other three, she seems almost happy to be there, Harry thinks. And if it hadn’t been for the sneer on her face, she would be beautiful… her dark hair is thick and shiny, falling in large curls around her heart-shaped face. 

 

The last in the group is a very young man who looks anything but happy to be there. In fact, he looks completely terrified. His whole body is shaking and his freckled face completely drains of blood as he stares up at Crouch. 

 

The sobbing witch sitting next to Crouch begins to rock back and forth, her sobs growing in volume as she presses the handkerchief to her face. 

 

Crouch stands up and glares down at the group. Harry leans forwards and peers into his face. Harsh lines are etched there now and look of pure hatred shines in his eyes. 

 

”You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law”, he says in a steady voice, but Harry can tell he’s trembling all over. ”So that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous —”

 

”Father…” the young man says suddenly, his voice breaking slightly. ”Father, please…”

 

His son, Harry thinks with a pang. That’s Crouch’s son… and he remembers what his dads told him, how Crouch sentenced his own son to a life in Azkaban without batting an eye… and he died… just a year later… and his mother, Crouch’s wife — Harry whips his head around and stares in horror at the sobbing witch — she died as well, died of a broken heart…

 

 _I don’t want to see anymore!_ Harry thinks furiously and stands up, looking around desperately.

 

He’s vaguely aware of Crouch describing the crime that the group stands accused of and his son, Barty Crouch Junior, starts to scream and wail, ”Father, I didn’t! I didn’t, I swear it, Father, please, don’t send me to the Dementors, I didn’t do it—!”

 

”Someone get me out of here!” Harry screams at the ceiling. ”I don’t want to see anymore, get me out!”

 

”I now ask the Jury”, Crouch shouts. ”To raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!”

 

Harry doesn’t need to look over at the Jury to know that they have agreed with Crouch this time. Barty Crouch Junior begins to cry in earnest, thrashing against the chains that shackle him to the chair and up on the bench, only a couple of metres away from Harry, his mother is rocking back and forth, whimpering into her handkerchief, while the audience begin to applaud their agreement with the verdict. 

 

”Mother!” Crouch Junior screams. ”Mother, please, stop him! I didn’t do anything, Mother, please, it wasn’t me! Don’t let him do this!”

 

The door in the corner opens and the hooded creatures — the Dementors — come gliding into the room again. 

 

”The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch!” The heavy-lidded witch says in a loud voice, her eyes gleaming. ”Throw us in Azkaban, we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us! He will reward us! We alone were faithful to him! We alone tried to find him!”

 

She stands up from the chair as soon as the chains unshackle her, as so does the other two men as well, and they follow the Dementors willingly, their heads held high. But Barty Crouch Junior, even as the creatures begin to sap his energy, tries to fight them, screaming hysterically by now. 

 

”No! No, I’m innocent! I haven’t done anything!”

 

They grab him by the arms and begin to drag him away from the chair. He digs his heels in and tries to twist out of their grasp, thrashing his head desperately, trying to look up at his parents on the bench. 

 

”I’m your son! I’m your son!”

 

”You are no son of mine!” Crouch Senior bellows suddenly, finally losing his cool exterior. ” _I have no son!_ ”

 

With a final whimper, the woman slumps over in the bench next to him. Harry realises she must have fainted. 

 

”Please…” he mutters. ”I don’t want to see any more…”

 

”Then let’s go back to my office…” a soft voice says suddenly next to him. 

 

Harry startles and looks around. Two Dumbledores are now next to him, one watching Barty Crouch Junior getting dragged out of the courtroom with sad eyes and the other watching him. Harry nods hurriedly. The Dumbledore of the now gives him a small, sad smile and then cups his elbow and pulls gently on it. 

 

Harry immediately feels himself shooting into the air, as the courtroom dissolves below him. In the next moment, he’s standing in front of the black cabinet again and breathing quickly. Dumbledore lets go of his elbow again and turns away. 

 

Harry watches him take a seat behind his desk and follows on shaky legs, sinking into the chair opposite. 

 

”I’m sorry, Sir…” he says quietly. ”I didn’t mean to—”

 

”I quite understand…” the man says calmly.

 

”What… what is that ting?”

 

”Oh, it’s a Pensieve. It allows you to view selected thoughts and memories, this way it’s easier, I find, to spot patterns and links…”

 

”So that was your memory, you thoughts?”

 

”Yes, I was using the Pensieve before Mr Fudge arrived for our meeting and I put it away rather hastily. I must not have latched the cabinet door closed properly. Naturally, it would attract your attention…”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry says again. 

 

”No, no, curiosity is not a sin, dear boy… although, we should exercise some caution, I daresay… Now, what can I do for you?”

 

”Well, I was in Divination earlier and I… well, I fell asleep…” Harry says awkwardly, peering up at the Headmaster warily. 

 

”Quite understandable”, the man says seriously and gives him a nod. 

 

Harry blinks, and releases an incredulous breath. He’s starting to see why his dads like Dumbledore so much… _well,_ why they _used_ to like him, anyway. His daddy isn’t as fond of him anymore, not since Harry started Hogwarts. 

 

”Well, I had a dream about You-Know-Who and Wormtail was there — er — d’you know who Wormtail—?”

 

”I do know”, Dumbledore confirms calmly. ”Continue, Harry…”

 

”Wormtail had made a blunder, a big one and You-Know-Who was furious with him, but at the start of the dream he got a message by owl telling him that the problem had been taken care of and that someone’s dead… so he wasn’t going to feed Wormtail to his snake, after all… he’s going to feed me to it instead… then he tortured Wormtail with the Cruciatus curse and that’s when I woke up — ehm — and my scar was hurting… as well…” Harry finishes lamely. ”I wrote my dads and told them, they said to tell you… but I… I didn’t really want to bother you with it, Sir, so we went to Professor Snape instead, but he just took me to see you… and here I am.”

 

”I see…” Dumbledore says quietly, and peers at him over his half-moon spectacles. ”And has your scar hurt at any other time this year, except for last summer?” Harry blinks in surprise. ”Remus told me about it.”

 

”Oh… Ehm… No, not it hasn’t hurt again, well, until today…”

 

Dumbledore nods, then seems to fall into deep thought. Harry watches him uncertainly, fidgeting sightly as the minutes continues to tick by… finally, he clears his throat gently. Dumbledore blinks and his eyes become focused once more. 

 

”My apologies, Harry…” he says. 

 

”Professor, do you know why my scar hurts?”

 

”I have a theory… but it’s only a theory…”

 

”And… what is your theory?”

 

”It is my belief that your scar hurts not only when Lord Voldemort is near, but also when he feels a particularly strong surge of emotion… the two of your are connected by the curse that failed, Harry. That is no ordinary scar.”

 

”So the dream… you think… you think it really happened? It was a… a vision?” Harry asks, shifting awkwardly in his seat, as Trelawny’s words echo in his mind. 

 

”It’s possible, even probable”, Dumbledore says. ”Harry, can I ask you… did you ever see Voldemort?”

 

”No, Sir. Just the back of his chair, but… he did hold a wand, I saw the tip of it… so, he must have some sort of body now, right, Professor?”

 

”Indeed…” Dumbledore murmurs, his eyes now devoid of their usual twinkle. 

 

”So he’s… he’s getting stronger, then?” Harry says hoarsely. 

 

”Again, I can only offer you my own theories, but the years before Voldemort’s rise to power the last time were marked with disappearances and now a Ministry Official has disappeared without a trace, as well as a muggle by the name of Frank Bryce who lived in the village where Voldemort grew up… he has not been seen since last August. ”

 

Harry flashes back to his last dream about Voldemort, when he’d killed an old muggle man. That was in August. Harry stares at Dumbledore. He is dying to ask him about what he’d seen in the Pensieve, but at the same time, a part of him just wants to forget… Finally, he decides to leave it for another day and stands up. 

 

Dumbledore stands up as well and walks him to the door. 

 

”Thank you for telling me all this, Harry”, he says gently. ”And never hesitate to come see me again, it really is no bother…”

 

Harry looks up into the man’s face and catches the familiar twinkle in his eyes again.

 

”Yes, Sir…”

 

”And, Harry? Good luck with the third task…”

 

Harry nods. 

 

He shares everything Dumbledore has told him with his friends in the Common Room later that evening, while Draco and Blaise play wizard’s chess. 

 

”So it was a vision then…” Draco says. 

 

”I guess…” Harry says uncomfortably.

 

”And Dumbledore thinks he’s getting str—”

 

Crabbe and Goyle joins them suddenly and Draco immediately snaps his mouth shut again. The five of them exchange tense looks and Seamus quickly changes the subject to quidditch, while Draco and Blaise continue with their chess game. 

 

”I’m really knackered”, Harry says after a moment. ”I’m going to go get ready for bed…” 

 

”I’ll come with you”, Seamus says.

 

They walk to the dorm to grab their toilet bags and then head for the boys’ bathroom. As they’re brushing their teeth, Seamus asks Harry if he really thinks You-Know-Who is coming back. 

 

”I don’t know, maybe… I think he’s trying really hard to get his powers back…” 

 

”And if he does, what do you think is going to happen? You know, with the Death Eaters and everything?” 

 

”I don’t know…” Harry says again, his stomach in knots at the thought. 

 

”You know half the people in our dorm are children of Death Eaters…” 

 

”Yeah, I know.” 

 

”Including your boyfriend—” 

 

” _I know!_ ” Harry snaps. 

 

”If he rises to power again, you’ll be like Romeo and Juliet”, Seamus grins cheekily. 

 

”Who are they?” Harry asks warily. 

 

”It’s a muggle story. Never mind…” Seamus sighs.

 

 

*

 

As they enter June, the atmosphere in the castle begins to get heavy with anticipation once more as the third task draws nearer. Harry sits with his friends in the library or the Common Room as they revise for their final exams, even though he won’t have to take them — much to Seamus’ and Theodore’s annoyance, but Draco and Blaise seems to be more understanding, and Draco snaps at the other two boys to shut up whenever they complain about the injustice of it. 

 

”Unfair?” he more or less shrieks one evening in the Common Room. ”Yes, you’re right, it _is_ unfair! Unfair that you get to sit and watch while Harry has to _fight a dragon_ , spend an hour fighting _Grindylows_ and _merpeople with spears_ in _ice cold water_ and Merlin knows what else he’ll have to do in the next task—!”

 

”All right, all right, forget I said anything!” Seamus snaps. 

 

Harry hides his smirk behind his hand when Seamus gives him a sour look. 

 

”Speaking of which”, Draco says and whips his head around to glare at Harry, whose smirk immediately shrinks away. ”Why are you just sitting there? Why aren’t you practising for the task?”

 

”Well, I —”

 

”The dorm is empty right now!” Draco says angrily. ”You should be down there practising your spell work!”

 

”Fine, I’ll go practise…” Harry mutters and heaves himself up from his lazy sprawl on the sofa next to the blonde. 

 

”At least he’s used to dealing with temperamental dragons”, Seamus mutters. 

 

”What’s that?” Draco says swiftly. 

 

”Nothing!”

 

”I have no-one to practise on, though”, Harry says as the thought occurs to him and flops back down on the sofa. 

 

”Take Seamus”, Draco says sourly. 

 

”You know what”, Seamus says. ”I will help you practise, Harry! I can’t concentrate out here anyway!”

 

Sighing, Harry hauls himself up to standing again. 

 

He really should be studying more hexes, but he’s been reading about hexes and jinxes every night for over a month now and he’s almost certain he’s got half the books memories back to front by now, and he can’t very well hex Seamus so the two of them just end up chatting about Quidditch after Harry has Stunned him a few times. 

On the morning of the third task, Harry’s nerves finally start to kick in. It’s nowhere near as bad as the panic he’d felt before the first two tasks, more like the butterflies he used to get before a Quidditch game back in Second Year. It’s actually quite a nice feeling, and with adrenaline slowly starting to course through him, Harry is actually excited for this evening!

Draco suddenly slams the _Daily Prophet_ down so hard on the table that he knocks over a goblet of pumpkin juice that promptly spills over the opposite edge of the table and drip into Pansy’s and Daphne’s laps. The girls jump up with a scream. 

”Draco!” Pansy snaps, giving the blonde a disgruntled look. 

 

But Draco doesn’t appear to have heard her at all. He’s staring at the paper in mute anger, his eyes flitting frantically across the page. Harry cranes his neck to read the headline, but Draco quickly crumbles the paper between his hands so the article is hidden. Harry frowns at him. The blonde stares back with an unreadable expression in his face. 

 

”What is it?” Harry says. ”Is it Skeeter again?”

 

Draco nods. 

 

”Well, let me see it—” he says, reaching for the paper, but Draco holds it out of reach. ”Draco!”

 

”You don’t want to—”

 

” _Draco!_ ”

 

”Come on, Draco”, Pansy says, sitting back down and Vanishing the pumpkin juice from the table top. ”We’re going to find out anyway, and you know it…”

 

”Fine…” the blonde mutters and smooths the paper out again. 

 

”HARRY POTTER ’DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS’”, reads the headline and Harry feels the butterflies in his stomach promptly turn to lead and drop heavily to the pit of his stomach.

 

He skims the article quickly. It mentions him collapsing in Divination and his scar hurting, but other than that it’s just more of the same drivel about him being traumatised and emotionally unstable. When she starts talking about werewolf influence, he stops reading. 

 

”I told you you wouldn’t like it…” Draco says quietly. 

 

Pansy snatches the paper from them and huddles together with Daphne to read the article as well. Harry watches them warily, waiting for their reactions, half-expecting smirks or giggles, but to his surprise and relief, they continue to frown. Finally, they look up again. 

 

”She’s such a cow”, Pansy says. ”Obviously she’s just bitter because no-one wants _her_ , so she doesn’t have a family of her own…”

 

”Sad really”, Daphne sniffs. ”Wonder if anyone buys anything she writes, I mean I think it’s just blatantly obvious that she’s making it up…”

 

No matter how untrue any of what the girls are saying really is, Harry can’t help but to grin at them. This is Pansy and Daphne’s way of offering their support, he realises and looking over at Draco and seeing the small smirk on his face, just confirms it. 

 

”I think I’m going to cancel my prescription of the _Daily Prophet_ ”, Pansy says in a loud, carrying voice that reaches at least two of the other three house tables. ”I mean if they’re going to continue to publish garbage like this, what’s the point… I mean, have _you_ ever seen Harry collapse, Daph? We’re around him all the time, unlike this _Skeeter woman_ and _I’ve_ never heard him complain about his scar hurting, have you?”

 

”No, it’s obviously just a bunch of lies!” Daphne says and tosses her hair over her shoulder. ”And why would Dumbledore worry about Harry competing, _he’s in the lead,_ so he’s _obviously_ doing okay…”

 

”How did she find out about what happened in Divination, though?” Blaise whispers next to Harry. ”She wasn’t there! She can’t have been! Do you think someone in our class talked to her?”

 

”Like who?” Draco hisses, leaning forward to speak with Blaise from the other side of Harry. ”No-one we know would sell out a fellow Slytherin…”

 

”Yeah, I don’t think so either…” Blaise mumbles. ”So unless Trelawny said something…”

 

”The window was open!” Harry says, remembering the moment just before he fell asleep, watching that bug flit back and forth on the other side of the glass. 

 

”So? We were in the North Tower!” Blaise says. ”There’s no way she could have heard us from the ground…”

 

”Maybe she climb the wall”, Harry mutters. ”Wouldn’t put it past her…”

 

”Can we help you?” Pansy says coldly. 

 

The boys look up and catches the scowls on the girls’ faces and they quickly whip their heads around to see Granger standing behind Harry. She seems to shake herself out of her thoughts and looks between Pansy and Harry, blinking several times.

 

”I wanted to wish Harry good luck with the task…” she mumbles. 

 

”Ehm… Thanks, Granger…” Harry says awkwardly. 

 

”Yeah…” the Gryffindor mumbles, turning away slowly. 

 

They watch in confusion as she suddenly bolts across the Great Hall and disappears through doors in a flurry of frizzy hair, Ron running after her shouting about a History of Magic exam they have in ten minutes. 

 

”What the hell was that all about?” Harry says. 

 

”Gryffindors…” Blaise mutters. 

 

As they are finishing up their breakfast, Professor Snape comes striding down the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables and tells Harry that the champions’ families are waiting in the adjoining chamber. 

 

”My dads are here?” Harry says in surprise. ”What, now? They’re here now?”

 

”I believe that’s what I said”, Snape mutters. ”The rest of you hurry up, or you’ll be late for Charms…”

 

”I’ll see you guys at lunch, then!” Harry says, hurrying to his feet. 

 

When he opens the door, the people inside the chamber fall silent and turn to look at him. Harry doesn’t recognise most of them, but he can guess who’s parents to whom just judging by their hair and eye colours and, in the case of a beautiful women with long blonde hair that Harry thinks must be Fleur’s mother, the way she pinches her mouth together and looks around indifferently, which reminds Harry of how Fleur had looked when she’d criticised the Yule Ball decorations. 

 

At the very back of the room, Harry’s dads are standing in front of the fireplace, and they both beam at him as he hurries over and hugs them both. 

 

”How are you feeling, cub?” Remus asks gently, stroking the back of his head. 

 

”Good, a little nervous but good…” Harry says happily. ”I didn’t know you would be here!”

 

”Of course we’re here, what’d you expect?” Sirius says. 

 

”No, I mean, I thought I’d see you tonight, I didn’t expect to spend the day with you!”

 

”It’s nice to he here when you’re not injured, for a change…” Remus says wryly. ”How about giving us a tour?”

 

”Sure!” Harry says. 

 

As they walk across the chamber to leave, the door opens and Diggory comes inside. He grins at Harry quickly, before hugging his mother standing just inside the door next to a rather sour-looking wizard which Harry figures must be his dad. 

 

”There you are, Ced…” he says in a loud voice, giving Harry a side-long glance. ”We were beginning to worry they’d forgotten you’re Hogwarts real champion as well…”

 

Sirius immediately tenses up next to Harry, but Remus grabs his arm and urges him to keep walking. 

 

”What was that about?” Harry says as they leave the chamber. 

 

”Nothing. Amos is just a sore loser…” Sirius mutters. 

 

”Rita Skeeter _did_ make it sound like Harry was the only Hogwarts champion”, Remus says. 

 

”So? That’s not _Harry’s_ fault!”

 

”I never said it was”, Remus says calmly. ”Harry, do you want to show us your Common Room?”

 

”Are you allowed?” Harry asks, excited at the idea of finally showing his dads where he spends most of his year. 

 

”I’m sure it’s fine”, Remus says. ”It should be empty now, shouldn’t it?”

 

Harry shows his dads around the Common Room and the boys’ dorm, quickly pointing out the window to distract them from his unmade bed. 

 

”That _is_ cool…” Sirius mutters. ”Is that the Black Lake? Are we next to the lake right now?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry nods eagerly. ”At night you can hear the waves, it’s really cool…”

 

After they’ve finished the tour of the dungeons, they head back upstairs and then spend the rest of the morning walking around outside. Harry shows his dads the Durmstrang ship and then takes them to Hagrid’s hut to show them the Beauxbatons carriage and the large horses as well. 

 

By lunchtime they make their way back to the castle and join Harry’s friends at the Slytherin table. Remus asks Draco and Blaise about the exam and nods politely when Draco gives him a very detailed account of the whole exam and when the blonde questions him nervously how he thinks he did, he reassures him that it sounds like he did a very good job. 

 

Sirius shakes his head slightly, watching the two of them and Harry gives him a questioning look. 

 

”Two peas in a pod, those two”, he mutters in an undertone. ”You’d think they were Ravenclaws…”

 

Harry grins and nods in agreement. 

 

After lunch, Harry and his dads spend most of the afternoon walking the grounds and then finally settles down in the grass just off the shore of the lake and Remus hands out some chocolate to both Sirius and Harry, then quizzes Harry on hexes and jinxes until he’s satisfied that he’s fully prepared for the task. 

 

”And so you don’t get lost”, he adds as an after-thought. ”You just put your wand in the palm of your hand and say point me, and the tip will point to north. That way you won’t go in circles…”

 

Harry eagerly gets his wand out and puts it carefully in the middle of his palm like his daddy said. 

 

”Point me”, he says, but nothing happens. 

 

”Try again”, Remus says calmly. ”Speak clearly.”

 

”I was”, Harry grumbles. ” _Point — me —!_ ”

 

The wand begins to spin and he starles, and nearly drops it to the ground. His dads chuckle and Sirius reaches out and strokes the back of his head affectionately. 

 

”You’ll do great…”

 

”Just —” Remus starts. 

 

”Be safe, I know”, Harry cuts in with a smile. 

 

”Yes”, Remus mutters. 

 

They sit in silence, watching the sun set and then they make their way back to the castle for the feast, which is even more magnificent than any Hogwarts feast Harry has ever sat through before, but he barely eats anything anyway. As the sky begins to darken outside the windows and in the enchanted ceiling, and the task draws closer, Harry’s nerves begin to set in for real. 

 

His dads must sense it too, because they take turns patting him on the back and petting his hair, until finally Harry pulls his head away from Remus hand and mumbles at him to _stop pawing at him, already._  

 

”Oh-oh, it’s finally happened”, Sirius says. ”He’s ashamed of us!”

 

”I’m not ashamed of you”, Harry says and rolls his eyes.

 

”I’m sorry, Harry”, Remus says in an undertone. ”If my dad had hugged me in front of my friends when I was your age I would have died of embarrassment…”

 

”It’s fine”, Harry mumbles, blushing. 

 

”I don’t think my dad ever hugged me…” Sirius muses thoughtfully. ”He must have done when I was little, but I don’t remember it…”

 

”I was five”, Draco says suddenly. 

 

Everyone turns to look at him in surprise and even as he blushes a bright pink, he looks just as surprised as them at having spoken.

 

”What’s that, Draco?” Remus says kindly. 

 

”Ehm, last time my father hugged me…” Draco mumbles, ducking his head and avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

 

”Your dad hasn’t hugged you since you were _five?_ ” Harry says aghast. ”What about your mum?”

 

Draco mumbles something that is too quiet for Harry to make out. 

 

”What?”

 

”Eleven” he says a little louder, scowling at his food. ”She hugged me goodbye when I left for Hogwarts.”

 

They all eat in awkward silence after that, except for Harry who just stares at his food miserably. He can’t stop thinking about eleven-year-old Draco, coming home for Christmas after his first school term at Hogwarts, expecting a hug from his mum and… _and what, did she recoil from him? Or did she just stay at a distance and Draco didn’t dare run up to her?_

 

He shouldn’t be surprised, he’s seen how the Malfoys are together… but he’d always assumed they’d be different when no-one was around. They’re all about appearances and etiquette, after all. It never occurred to him that they really are that cold with each other _all the time_ … especially Narcissa, whom Harry likes a lot more than Lucius, for obvious reasons; the woman who didn’t want her son to go to Durmstrang because she wanted him closer to home, and who was worried that he’d be scared of the dark and so bought him Luminous Balloons and taught him the Sticking Charm to stick them above his bed. That sounds like a caring, over-protective, _loving_ mother to Harry… 

 

 _A caring, over-protective, loving_ but non-affectionate _mother, apparently…_

 

”Harry…” Remus says quietly. ”You really should try and eat some more, you’ll need your strength.”

 

 

But as soon as he’s spoken, Dumbledore rises to his feet at the Head Table and hush spreads across the whole hall even before he holds his arms out. 

 

”Ladies and Gentlemen, in five minutes time I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch Stadium for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament… will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the pitch now.”

 

Giving his dads a nervous smile, Harry gets to his feet. The Slytherin table erupts in cheers and applause and he ducks his head, smiling shyly. Darting forward to give both his dads a quick hug, and discretely brushing his hand over the back of Draco’s arm before straightening up again, Harry gives his friends a final wave before he walks out of the Great Hall. 

 

Ludo Bagman is waiting for him at the front doors and immediately beams at him as he approaches. Harry’s mind flashes back to the memory in Dumbledore’s Pensieve… the man sat accused of being a Death Eater and risked going to Azkaban for the rest of his life and when asked if he had anything to add to his testimony, he’d smiled and said _well, I’ve been a bit of an idiot._

 

Harry stares at the man’s beaming face now and wonders if it’s real. Is he really that naive, or is it all an act? He’s been trying to help Harry all year. _Why?_

 

”Feeling all right, Harry? Confident?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says shortly. 

 

The first stars have appeared in the deep blue sky and the evening air is chilly. Harry wonders whether he should have brought another jumper, but then thinks he’ll probably keep warm once he gets into the maze if he’ll be running around a lot… Krum sidles up next to him and the two of them make the trek down to the Quidditch pitch in companionable silence, letting Bagman and Diggory take the lead while Fleur trails after them. 

 

As they get to the Quidditch Stadium, the pitch is completely unrecognisable. The nearest hedge now stands at twenty feet tall, with only a small opening in the middle of it — the entrance to the massive maze — and looking through it, Harry shivers slightly at the darkness that lies beyond. 

 

Within minues, the stands begin to fill and soon the Stadium is alive with excited chatter. Harry looks towards the part of the stands where the Slytherins usually sit during Quidditch games. He immediately catches sight of a familiar white-blonde head and grins as the whole section begins to wave at him, his dads amongst them. He waves back quickly, before turning back around to face Bagman. 

 

Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick and Moody come traipsing towards them, the three shorter professors all wearing pointy hats with big red stars on them while Hagrid has stuck his star to the back of his moleskin coat. 

 

”We’ll be patrolling the edges of the maze”, Professor McGonagall says. ”If you get into trouble and wish to be rescued, shoot up red sparks into the air and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?”

 

Harry stares at her. He’s memorised half a dozen books on hexes and practised Stunning and Disarming spells so many times he can practically do them without a wand by now, but he has no idea how you produce red sparks… _what do I do_ , he thinks wildly. _Do I tell them? Everyone’s going to laugh at me, and then Rita Skeeter will write about it in the Prophet!_

 

”Off you go then”, Bagman tells the teachers happily, then turns to address the audience. ” _Sonorous_ … Ladies and Gentlemen, the third and final task is about to begin! Let me just remind you how the points currently stand — in first place, with eighty-seven points, is Harry Potter of Hogwarts!”

 

The stands erupt in cheers and applause, but all Harry can think about it the horrors that await him inside the maze and how he’ll have no way of signalling for help… how could he have been so stupid? He should have thought about this, he should have asked someone about it…

 

Krum gently knocks his shoulder against him. Harry blinks and looks up in confusion. 

 

”What?”

 

”You start”, the Durmstrang boy says. ”You’re in the lead, you get a head start…”

 

”Ready, Harry?” Bagman’s booming voice rings out across the Stadium and Harry nods quickly. ”Well, in position then…”

 

He gestures towards the small opening in the hedge. 

 

Feeling his heart pound in his chest and his legs tremble slightly under him, Harry walks over to it. 

 

”On my whistle”, Bagman says. ”Three — two — one —”

 

He gives a short blast on the whistle and Harry stumbles forward and runs into the maze. As soon as the tall walls rise on either side of him, the sounds of the Stadium immediately die down. Harry looks around nervously, expecting to see some horrible creature fly out of the darkness at him… but nothing happens. Everything is deadly silent around him, his own breath sounding unnaturally loud.

 

” _Lumos_ ”, he mutters and begins to walk further into maze until finally the opening behind him has been swallowed up by the darkness. 

 

Reaching a fork about fifty yards in, Harry decides to turn left. He imagines hearing Bagman’s whistle again and speeds up. 

 

He feels like someone is watching him, and looks over his shoulder nervously as he staggers forward. But he can’t see anything in the darkness behind him. 

 

When he reaches a second fork, he puts his wand in the palm of his hand. 

 

” _Point me_ ”, he says clearly and the wand begins to spin quickly and then stops abruptly again, the lit tip pointing into a solid hedge to his right. 

 

To get to the centre of the maze, he will have to go north-west so if that way is north… he’s better off taking the left fork and then turn right again as soon as possible. Turning cautiously, Harry edges further into the darkness but the path ahead is empty and when he takes the next right turn, his way remains unblocked there as well, and it is really starting to unnerve him… surely he should have encountered an obstacle by now?

 

Turning another corner, Harry’s heart suddenly leaps into his throat and he stumbles back in terror… A pair of scarlet eyes are burning in the darkness in front of him and as Harry stares in mute horror, the shape of a cloaked figure steps out of the shadows and looms over him… _Voldemort… but it’s not possible,_ he thinks wildly. _It can’t be, not here, not now —_

 

The deathly pale face cracks up into a wide, cold grin and the eyes flash at him. 

 

”Harry Potter…” a cold, high-pitched voice rings out in the silence. ”Here you go, Nagini… Tuck in…”

 

Harry looks at the ground quickly, expecting to see the massive snake from his dream, but instead, Voldemort’s robes seem to coil and twist at his feet and as Harry watches the material extends into the space between them and as it twists, it magically turns into the snake Nagini, her massive jaws opening as she rears back, getting ready to strike —

 

”But…” Harry says, looking between the snake and Voldemort’s face. ”Hang on… You’re a Boggart!”

 

Scrambling to his feet, he points his wand at the creature. 

 

” _Riddikulus!_ ” he shouts and laughs as the Boggart-Voldemort stumbles over Nagini and falls flat on his face. 

 

With a loud crack, the creature explodes into smoke and disappears, leaving Harry alone once more. As he begins to move forward again, he tries to walk as quietly and quickly as possible, listening intently for any sign of movement in the darkness around him… turning left twice, before he finally finds a right turn, Harry performs the navigation spell again and as he’d suspected, he’s gone too far east… 

 

Finally, after reachig two dead ends and having to double back, Harry finds a new route but a golden mist is blocking the way. He edges closer to it cautiously, and is just considering nudging it with his foot when a sudden scream can be heard from ahead of him. Harry looks up and stares into the darkness beyond the mist apprehensively… _it sounded like Fleur…_ he wonders what she’s encountered. 

 

 _Well, whatever it is, I probably don’t want to run into it,_ Harry thinks and doubles back, leaving the golden mist behind. 

 

For at least ten minutes, Harry encounters nothing but more dead ends. But finally, he manages to find a new path. Using the spell to navigate, he makes sure to stay on course and moves steadily closer to the centre of the maze. 

 

 _I must be getting close now,_ Harry thinks, aware of the darkness encrouching on him more than before the deeper into the maze he gets. 

 

Then suddenly, as he turns round a corner, he sees movement again ahead of him and stops dead. Holding his wand aloft, the light falls on a magnificent creature that Harry’s only ever seen in books before… it’s got the body of a lion and the head of a woman, although it doesn’t look like any woman Harry has every seen before. _It’s a sphinx_ , his mind supplies and he cautiously approaches it. 

 

She turns and fixes her pale eyes on him, but her face remains unreadable and she continues to pace back and forth across the path, blocking the way forward. 

 

”Ehm… Excuse me?” Harry says. ”Can I get past, p-please?”

 

”You are very near your goal”, the Sphinx speaks in a deep, other-worldly voice. ”The quickest way is past me.”

 

”Yeah, so… so will you move… please?” Harry says uncertainly. 

 

”No…” she says, still pacing in front of him. ”Not unless you can answer my riddle… Answer correctly on your first guess and I will let you pass. Answer wrongly, I will attack. Remain silent, and you may walk away unscathed.”

 

”Okay… Okay, can I hear the riddle?” he says nervously. 

 

The Sphinx stops pacing finally and sits down on her hind legs and begins to recite what sounds like a long poem. Harry stares at her. 

 

”Er… Could I have that again… Ehm… More slowly?”

 

Smiling serenly, the Sphinx repeats the poem. 

 

”First think of the person who lives in disguise, 

Who deals in secrets and tells naughty lies. 

Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend, 

the middle of middle, and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard

During the search of ahard-to-find word. 

Now string them together and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”

 

”Okay, okay…” Harry mutters and begins to pace, while the Sphinx continues to smile at him. ”A person in disguise who deals in secrets and tell lies… er… A spy, maybe?”

 

He glances over at the Sphinx, but her face is unchanged. 

 

”What was the next bit, the middle of middle? Can you say that bit again?”

 

The Sphinx complies and Harry nods absently, ”… always the last thing to mend, the middle of… hang on, middle of middle and at the end of end, is the letter d, isn’t it?”

 

The Sphinx continues to smile. Feeling a surge of excitement, Harry eagerly asks her to tell him the last part again. 

 

”Yeah”, he mumbles. ”So, let’s see… a sound you make… er… I dunno, a sound? not a word, but a _sound_ … er… _Oh!_ Hang on, that’s a sound, that sound I just made! _Er_ is a sound! So if I put them all together I should get the name of a creature I wouldn’ want to kiss! So… spy — d — er… _A spider!_ ”

 

Harry wheels around and stares at the Sphinx. Her serene smile widens and she gives him a slow nod, then strecthes her legs out on front of her and stands up again. 

 

”What, that’s it?” Harry says, hardly daring to believe it. ”I can pass?”

 

”Yes…” she says and moves aside. 

 

” _Hah!_ Thanks!” Harry exclaims and runs past her. 

 

Dashing around the corner, Harry gasps in amazement as a light suddenly shines in the darkness ahead of him. There, on a plinth about a hundred yards away from him, the Triwizard Cup stands waiting for the champions to grab it… it’s serene glow giving the illusion of calm and safety as if they haven’t had to fight their way past monsters to get close to it… Harry’s knees almost buckle under him as relief surges through him. He’s safe. It’s over…

 

Suddenly something slams into and knocks him sideways against the solid hedge. A strangled scream tears out of his throat as he’s grabbed by the ankle and hoisted into the air. He hangs dangling upside-down, staring into eight, gleaming black eyes underneath him and although it’s too dark for him to see much more of the arachnid’s face, he can hear the distinct sound of clicking pincers. 

 

Twisting around desperately, trying to iam his wand at the creature below him, Harry starts shouting every curse and hex he can think of, but they only seem to bounce off the giant spider… mind whirring wildly, Harry tries to think of something else. The last time he was in this situation (and isn’t it insane that anyone would be in a situation like this more than once in their life?) he’d managed to talk his way out of it, but something tells him that won’t work this time. If only he had the Sword of Gryffindor on him now… something real he could use against the spider, since its’ skin seems thick enough to repel his spells… _wait, what if…_

 

Twisting around again, Harry points his wand directly against the creature’s eyes and shouts, ”INCENDIO!”

 

A long flame shoots out of the tip of Harry’s wand and hits the spider in the face. It recoils immediately and drops Harry, who crumples to the ground as his ankle twists under him and he lets out a shout as pain sears though his leg. He scrambles back and holds his wand aloft, ready to blast the spider again but it’s already scuttled away into the darkness. Harry is alone with the Triwizard Cup once more.

 

Grabbing the hedge for support, he hauls himself to his feet and then hobbles over to the plinth where the Cup stands. He then turns to look around him expectently and listens intently for any sign of approaching footsteps from either of the other champions, but the maze is deathly silent again.

 

His ankle is throbbing in pain now and standing still for the first time since entering the maze, Harry is becoming aware of just how cold it is. He just wants the tournament to be over, so that he can leave the this place and rejoin his dads and his friends… _and Draco_ … A particularly cold breeze hits him and he shivers, hugging himself… _Where are the others?_

 

He turns back around and looks at the gleaming Cup again, his fingers itching to reach out and touch it but he stops himself, thinking his daddy will be cross with him if he wins… besides he doesn’t _want_ to win, he wants to come in second… but, he sighs in frustration and scans the darkness around him again, it doesn’t look like anyone else is volunteering to win either…

 

As another cold breeze slams against him, Harry gives up. For all he knows, the other champions might have forfeited ages ago… he hasn’t exactly been paying attention to the sky while he’s been weaving his way through the maze after all, so if they’ve sent up red sparks, he’s missed it… _let’s just get this over with_ , he thinks resolutely and turns back towards the Triwizard Cup.

 

Then taking a deep breath to steel himself, Harry reaches out his hand to brush his numb fingers against the one of the gleaming handles…

 

” _Harry!_ ” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh duh duuuh... I like cliffhangers, surely you must have realised this by now?   
> (Spoilers on Twitter @idunwallstrom)
> 
> <3


	30. The return of the Dark Lord

Harry snatches his hand back from the Cup again and wheels around to see Krum stumble out from one of the passageways. He looks worse for wear. His face is flushed and clammy while his robes are ripped in several places and singed in others.

 

”Are you all right?” Harry asks.

 

”Yes…” the other boy pants. ”But that Diggory… he tried to hex me…”

 

”What?” Harry says incredulously. ”That… that doesn’t sound like him…”

 

”I know”, Krum nods. 

 

He sidles up to Harry and he’s so hunched over that they’re almost the same height, Harry notices with a small thrill of excitement. 

 

”He vas not himself…”

 

”What happened?”

 

”I stunned him”, Krum says grimly. ”Go on, take the cup so ve can get out of here…”

 

Harry looks at the cup uncertainly. He’d been willing to take it and win the tournament only two seconds ago, but that was when he thought he didn’t have a choice… Sirius would be so proud of him if he won, but Remus… _But it will be over_ , he tells himself. _The only reason he keeps telling me not to try to win is because he thinks I’ll put myself in danger, so he can’t get too cross with me for winning if it’s all over and I’m safe…_

 

”Vat is it?” Krum says, frowning at him. 

 

”Nothing, it’s just… I promised my dads that I wouldn’t win — _I mean…_ that I wouldn’t put myself at risk to try and win, because I’m not even supposed to be in the tournament…”

 

Krum’s brow furrows further. 

 

”You should take the cup”, Harry says. ”I’m happy to come in second. Really.”

 

”I cannot do that… it would not be honourable”, Krum mutters. ”You have done better than me in all the tasks. You deserve to win.”

 

”But…”

 

”No. You got here first, you take it.”

 

”But if Diggory hadn’t attacked you illegally, you might have beat me to it”, Harry insists, then decides to tweak the truth slightly. ”I’d only just got here when you arrived. And I really don’t care about winning!”

 

Krum watches him thoughtfully for a moment. 

 

”Fine… Ve vill both touch it and get full marks”, he relents finally. 

 

Harry realises he’ll win anyway if they both get full marks, since his score is higher than Krum’s but at this point he’s in too much pain and too cold and tired to argue anymore, so he just nods in agreement. 

 

”On three then…” he says and reaches out for the cup again. ”One… Two… Three…”

 

Grasping one of the Cup’s handles, Harry immediately feels swooping sensation in his stomach, like he’s being pulled through space by an invisible thread hooked to his navel, while the whole world swirls around him and Krum, connected by the Triwizard Cup in their hands. 

 

Then just as suddenly as the sensation started, it stops again and Harry feels his feet slam into solid ground once more. Pain shoots up his injured leg and he crumples to the ground, his fingers falling away from the handle of the Triwizard Cup.

 

He braces his hands against the ground (mind registering dry grass and soil under his palms) and pushes himself up on shaky arms and looks around.

 

The first thing he notices is the absence of mountains on the horizon, telling him he and Krum must have travelled quite far from Hogwarts. 

 

The second thing, is the dark shapes of gravestones breaking up the gloom of the evening shadows around them. He feels dread and fear coil in his stomach… _something’s not right…_

 

”Vat is this place?” Krum mutters. ”Did you know the Cup vould be a Portkey?”

 

”No…” Harry mumbles. 

 

He pushes himself to his feet gingerly, careful to keep most of his weight on his good ankle. Looking around nervously, trying to make out any movement in the darkness, he feels his heart beat a steady tattoo in his chest and even as he tells himself it’s okay, it’s all just part of the third task, a sinking sensation in his stomach calls him on the lie. 

 

He fumbles with his wand and holds it out in front of him.

 

” _Lumos_ ”, he mutters, then instantly recoils in fear as the light from his wand falls on a shadowed figure walking towards them silently between the graves. ”Wh-who are you?”

 

Harry is aware of Krum in his peripheral as the older boy also draws his wand, but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from the figure that keeps approaching silently.

 

” _I said who are you?_ ” Harry demands, but the figure remains silent. 

 

As it draws closer to them, it becomes apparent that it’s a rather short and stocky person but because they have the hood of their cloak pulled down, Harry can’t see their face. They’re carrying a bundle in their arms — _a baby?_ Harry thinks uncertainly — finally the figure stops next to a massive marble headstone only six feet from where Harry is standing. 

 

He shoots Krum a sidelong glance. The other boy looks just as confused and wary as he himself feels. Turning back to the hooded figure, Harry opens his mouth to demand to know his identity again, but before he knows what’s happened, his scar has suddenly burst open and a searing pain shoots through his head. His knees buckle and he collapses to the ground again helplessly, his wand tumbling from his fingers as he slaps both hands against his forehead desperately. 

 

He feels like his skull has split open and any minute now his brain will come tumbling out and then he’ll be dead…

 

”Harry!” Krum cries in alarm above him. 

 

Harry can’t answer him though, he can barely think. All he knows is pain. White hot, all-consuming pain. 

 

” _Kill the spare_ ”, a cold, high-pitched voice says somewhere and it sends shivers all over Harry’s body. 

 

” _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

The pain in Harry’s forehead intensifies. Sure he’s going to pass out from it, Harry clutches his head and screams until his throat feels raw. He’s vaguely aware of a sudden green light through his eyelids. His stomach churns violently and he lurches forward and retches.

 

Finally the pain begins to subside slightly. His head is still pounding and his scar stings, but it’s not so bad that he can’t think… Sitting up cautiously, Harry blinks his eyes open. A sudden weight slams into his chest as Krum’s lifeless body on the ground next to him registers and he stares at it in mute horror… _dead… he’s dead…_

 

Suddenly a meaty hand has grabbed a hold of his arm and hoisted him to his feet and he stumbles slightly as he puts weight on his sprained ankle, put this pain is nothing compared to what he just experienced and he continues to stumble after the hooded figure automatically. 

 

He’s thrust roughly towards the marble headstone and just has time to register the name carved into the face, before the figure has spun him around and slammed him back against it… _Tom Riddle…_

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks numbly. _That’s impossible…_

 

But just as he thinks this, the figure reaches up and pulls the hood down and Harry heart stutters in his chest as he finds himself staring into the drawn face of Peter Pettigrew… _Wormtail_ … Harry lurches towards the man in blind rage, but before he can reach him, the other wizard has conjured a length of rope from his wand that swiftly coils around the headstone, tying Harry to it tightly. He struggles against the restraints, but they don’t budge at all. 

 

Harry lets out a frustrated yell. Wormtail frowns at him and fumbles with one of the pockets in his cloak, pulling out a piece of black fabric that he shoves inside Harry’s mouth. Harry tries to push it out again with his tongue and immediately gags on the taste of it. 

 

Wormtail scurries out of sight behind the headstone and Harry looks around frantically, searching the dark graveyard for any sign of help or inspiration for getting himself out of here, but the only thing he can see is hundreds of gravestones spread out before him in the darkness and then twenty feet in front of him, Krum’s spreadeagled body and the still gleaming Triwizard Cup… and at his feet, the bundle of robes he’d thought was a baby at first, except he knows now that it isn’t a baby inside the robes, not really, not _technically_ — his suspicion is confirmed when he looks down at it and his scar sears once more. 

 

Harry hears Wormtail’s panting breaths draw nearer again and turns his head to see the man drag a large cauldron into place in front of the grave. Prodding the underside of it with his wand, Wormtail manages to light a fire and within moments the liquid inside has begun to boil and shoot sparks. 

 

The bundle is moving more and more restlessly at Harry’s feet and Harry feels bile rise in his throat again as the cold, high-pitched voice slithers up from inside the robes, ” _Hurry!_ ”

 

”It is ready, master!”

 

Wormtail lurches forward and stoops down at Harry’s feet and Harry stares in horror as he folds the robes back to reveal the ugliest creature he has ever seen. It’s got the general form of a human baby, with a head and four limbs curled into its frail body, but there the similarities end abruptly. It’s dark red, as if it’s been skinned alive and the face is flat and snake-like. But the thing that strikes Harry the most are the eyes. The burning, scarlet eyes with thin slits for pupils. 

 

Scar searing again, Harry presses his eyes shut and focuses on breathing slowly and deeply through his nose until his nausea subsides and when he opens his eyes again, Wormtail is standing over the cauldron and the baby-like creature — _Voldemort,_ Harry’s mind whispers — is nowhere to be seen. Wormtail mutters incantations under his breath, staring at the bubbling contents of the cauldron with a look of contained panic in his eyes. 

 

” _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew you son!_ ” Wormtail wheezes and points his wand at the grave under Harry’s feet. 

 

The surface of the ground cracks open under Harry’s feet and a stream of dust shoots out of the rift and soars through the night air, landing inside the cauldron with a hiss. 

 

Whimpering quietly to himself, Wormtail pockets his wand and pulls a small dagger from inside his robes with shaking hands. 

 

” _Flesh of the s-servant w-willingly gi-ven — you will revive your m-m-master!_ ” he sobs. 

 

In one swift movement he swings the dagger through the air and chops off his hand at the wrist. A piercing scream is ripped from him and the dagger falls from his hand as he grabs his bleeding stump and hugs it to his chest. His whole body convulses and he seems to focus all of his remaining energy to stay standing. Then with a shuddering breath, he bends to pick the dagger up from the ground again.

 

With tears streaming down his face and moans of pain curling out of his throat, Wormtail drags himself over to the Riddle grave again, his beady eyes fixing dully on Harry. 

 

” _Blood of the e-enemy… forcibly… t-t-taken…_ ” he gasps. 

 

No, Harry thinks desperately.

 

” _You will… resurrect… your foe…!_ ”

 

” _No!”_ Harry cries, his voice muffled by the cloth shoved into his mouth. 

 

Raising the dagger once more in his shaking hand, Wormtail angles the sharp tip of the blade against the crook of Harry’s arm and presses down hard… a sharp pain shoots through Harry’s arm, then subsides into more of a stinging sensation… Twisting his head around, Harry stares in dismay as Wormtail holds a glass phial to the gushing wound in his arm, collecting his blood. 

 

Once the phial is filled, he stumbles back to the cauldron and tips it over. The blood dribbles into the cauldron and its content gives off an aggressive hiss, then begins to turn from its blood red colour to pearly white, diamond sparks shooting out of it, while Wormtail slumps to the ground and cradles his bleeding stump to his chest, sobbing quietly. 

 

 _Please, let it have gone wrong,_ Harry thinks desperately as he stares at the cauldron. _Let it go wrong, let him drown in there._

 

Suddenly white steam thick as fog billows out of the cauldron and begins to fill the graveyard, until Harry can no longer make out the gravestones or the bodies of Krum and Wormtail on the ground in front of him. It’s like he’s staring out across the lake, with a blanket of mist covering its’ black surface. The cauldron that stands a little higher from the ground, where the steam is the most dense, can still be visible and so can the skeletal figure that suddenly stands up inside it. 

 

 _No, no, no,_ Harry thinks wildly, like a desperate inner mantra, his heart pounding in time with it. 

 

”Robe me…” the familiar cold voice says quietly. 

 

Harry can hear Wormtail shuffle around on the ground, still whimpering and sobbing. In the next moment he stands up and moves over to puts the robes over man’s head one-handedly. As soon as the robes fall down his body, the man steps out of the cauldron with a graceful ease and as he turns around, Harry finds himself staring into the face that has haunted his nightmares for three years… it’s deathly pale, making the vivid, scarlet eyes burn all the brighter, and the nose is flat as a snake’s with thin slits for nostrils… he barely looks human anymore, definitely nowhere near as handsome as he’d been when he was sixteen, but it’s definitely Lord Voldemort.

 

He doesn’t appear to notice Harry or the still sobbing Wormtail at all at first, taking a long moment to acquaint himself with his new body, his long spindly fingers fluttering with delight over his arms and chest, before brushing over his bald head and down his hollow cheeks. But then his scarlet eyes flit over to Harry briefly, as if making sure he’s got an audience, before stalking over to Wormtail and bending down to hiss in his face. 

 

”Show me your arm…”

 

”Oh master, oh thank you…” the man gasps and holds out the stump that is still gushing blood. 

 

Voldemort lets out a small, cold laugh. 

 

”Your _other_ arm, Wormtail…”

 

”Please, master… you promised, _please_ …”

 

Face twisting in distaste, Voldemort reaches out and shoves the sleeve up on Wormtail’s uninjured arm, revealing a red mark on the inside of his wrist. He smiles coldly at it.

 

”It is back… they must have noticed… and now, we will see…” he says softly, pressing a pale finger against the mark. 

 

Harry’s scar sears in pain again, but his muffled scream is instantly drowned out by Wormtail’s howl of pain. Removing his finger from the mark, that Harry can see has turn an inky black now, Voldemort stands up again and looks up at the starry sky with an air of anticipation. 

 

”Now we shall know… who will be brave enough to return… and who will be foolish enough to stay away…”

 

Tearing his eyes from the stars again, Voldemort begins to pace the small space between the cauldron and grave where Harry is still tied. Several times, Harry catches the scarlet eyes flit over to him and the thin lips stretch into a lazy smile.

 

”You stand, Harry Potter, on the remains of my father”, he says softly after a moment, the scarlet eyes twinkling with something that might be amusement. ”A muggle and a fool, much like your mother… but they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child and… I killed my father, and now look… in death he has proved himself useful at last…”

 

Voldemort laughs again, the sound of it sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. It’s suddenly broken off and he becomes alert once more, as the _crack_ of Apparition can be heard in the near distance. Looking in the direction of the sound, desperate hope wells up inside Harry… _please let it be my dads, or Dumbledore, or Moody, or…_

 

But soon, more _cracks_ punctuate the silence of the graveyard and Harry can see hooded figures approach them slowly between the graves. As they get close enough that Harry can see their masked faces, his hope sinks like boulder in his chest and he goes limp against the ropes restraining him… _it’s over,_ he thinks in despair… _it’s all over… I’m dead… I’ll never see my dads or Draco again…_

 

”Master… master…” 

 

One of the figures falls on his knees and crawls the last few metres over to Voldemort, who watches coldly as the man grabs the hem of his robes with trembling hands and kisses it through his mask. 

 

The others follow suit, one by one, and after kissing the hem of Voldemort’s robes they quickly back away from him again and move to stand in a circle around him and the grave, leaving spaces between them as if waiting for more people to arrive. 

 

”Welcome, Death Eaters…” Voldemort says softly. ”Thirteen years it’s been since last we met… and yet you answer my call as though it was only yesterday… we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! _Or are we?_ ”

 

Moving slowly along the inner edge of the circle, Voldemort throws his head back and inhales deeply through the slits where his nose should be. 

 

”I smell guilt…” he hisses. ”Here you stand before me, whole and healthy, your powers intact… and I ask myself… why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?”

 

No-one speaks. No-one even seems to breathe. 

 

”…and I answer myself”, Voldemort continues calmly, his voice deceptively gentle. ”They must have believed me broken… they thought I was gone, so they slipped back among my enemies and pleaded innocence, and ignorance…”

 

As Voldemort continues to speak, fear and pain courses through Harry and he struggles to stay focused. He lets his gaze wander over the hooded figures facing him… _Death Eaters…_ the expressionless silver faces of their masks staring back at him… and he is reminded of the recurring nightmare he’s been having ever since the World Cup, in which he’s running with Draco through the woods and they get captured by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

 

 _At least Draco is safe now,_ he thinks faintly. 

 

And then, as if his thoughts have somehow narrowed his focus, a flash of white-blonde flashes in his peripheral and he whips his head to the side and stares at one of the Death Eaters standing to his right. His face is hidden behind a mask just like the rest of them, but there is no mistaking the immaculately cut strands of blonde hair that falls just below the man’s shoulders, the perfectly even ends sticking out between the mask and the hood… _Lucius…_

 

For one awful second, Harry allows hope to fill him once more… 

 

Here is someone he knows, someone that is part of his life, someone who invited him along to the Quidditch World Cup less than a year ago… surely a person like that might try and help him? He knows he’s not Lucius’ favourite person in the world, but he _is_ his son’s best friend after all (unofficially even more than that, and he sure the man knows it), so surely for Draco’s sake he’ll try and safe Harry?

 

But just as sudden as these traitorously hopeful thoughts have flitted through Harry’s mind, he feels himself deflate again. How can Lucius possibly help him now, even if he wanted to? He’d proably be struck down before he moved a muscle…

 

As if illustrating this suspiscion of Harry’s, one of the other Death Eaters flings himself to his knees in front of Voldemort suddenly, begging for his forgiveness and Voldemort lets out another peel of cold laughter. Then he raises his wand and whispers, ” _Crucio…_ ”

 

Harry lets out a startled yell as pain explodes in his head once more. Squinting his eyes open again, he can see the man collapsed on the ground at Voldemort’s feet, his whole body writhing, guttural shrieks of terror and pain welling out of him and echoing in the night air around them all… Blinking tears from his eyes, Harry looks across the circle of Death Eaters. A new tension has spread through the group now. No-one else dares move, or speak. All they can do is wait — for what? to watch their friend finally die? for their turn?

 

Voldemort lifts his wand again, breaking the curse. The Death Eater remains convulsing on the ground, gasping and panting. 

 

”Get up, Avery”, Voldemort hisses. ”Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years… I want thirteen years’ repayment before I forgive you! Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, haven’t you, Wormtail?”

 

”Yes, master… please”, Wormtail moans. ”Please, master…”

 

”Worthless and traitorous as you are, you did help me return to my body… and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…”

 

Raising his wand once more, Voldemort conjures a shapeless silvery substance that soars through the air and latches onto Wormtail’s bleeding stump. Within seconds, it reshapes itself into a sleek palm and finally four fingers and a thumb sprouts out it. Wormtail gasps, but this time in relief and wonder as he holds up his new hand and moves the finger experimentally. 

 

”Oh, thank you, master… _thank you_ —!”

 

But Voldemort’s eyes flit away dismissively and zeroes in on a Death Eater across the circle from Wormtail instead, on Lucius… and even though Harry knows there is nothing he can do, tied as he is to the gravestone, he finds himself tensing all the same, as if getting ready to leap to the man’s defence… This is Draco’s _dad_ , after all — and it doesn’t matter that he is an awful man (and even a rather rotten dad), because if something were to happen to him it would break Draco’s heart all the same. 

 

”Lucius…” Voldemort whispers, sliding across the circle to get in the man’s face. ”You… have disappointed me more than anyone…”

 

”My Lord…” Lucius whispers. ” _I_ have _not_ renounced the old ways!”

 

”No?” Voldemort says softly. ”I _have_ heard as much… still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe?”

 

”Yes”, Lucius gasps. ”Yes, my Lord—”

 

”Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius. As fun as your exploits at the World Cup were, surely your energies would have been better spent in finding and aiding your master? _Unless_ … your loyalties have… _shifted_ …”

 

Voldemort pulls his hand back suddenly as if to slap the other man across the face, but instead the silvery mask covering it evaporates into smoke… for the first time, Harry can see Lucius’ deathly pale face. His eyes keep flitting between Voldemort’s chest and face, wide with fear. 

 

”No, my Lord, _I swear…”_ he whispers frantically. ”If there had been any sign, any whisper of your whereabouts, then I would have been at your side immediately! Nothing could have prevented me—!”

 

”Oh, there were more than whispers, my slippery friend”, Voldemort says coldly. ”In fact, at the World Cup, a _faithful_ Death Eater went so far as to send the Dark Mark into the sky… _and you ran_ … oh yes, I have heard about that… and that’s not all I have heard… you see, my most faithful servant couldn’t be with us here tonight, because he is at _Hogwarts_ …” 

 

Lucius’ face remains shuttered, but Harry can see his eyelids fluttering subtly… and he’s sure that if this had been any other person, they would have fainted from fear by now.

 

”…it was through his efforts that our young friend here could be with us instead — Harry Potter, my guest of honour”, Voldemort continues pleasantly. ”But I daresay he needs no introduction… I’m told he is almost as famous as I am nowadays… _The Boy Who Lived…_ ”

 

He lets out a small tinkle of laughter and his scarlet eyes flit over to Harry for a second, before he pins Lucius with another cold stare.

 

”But that’s not all he is famous for, now is it, Lucius?”

 

Lucius face drains completely of blood and for a split second he sways slightly, as if he’s actually going to faint… 

 

”The son of James and Lily Potter, The Boy Who Lived… a Slytherin… a parselmouth… and an honorary Malfoy, perhaps?” Voldemort adds playfully, a small smile ghosting over his thin lips even as his eyes remain hard as stone.

 

A few nervous chuckles can be heard from the other Death Eaters. But Lucius keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Voldemort’s chest. 

 

”Well?” Voldemort prompts. 

 

Lucius quickly shakes his head. 

 

”No?”

 

”N-no, my Lord…” Lucius whispers so softly that Harry can barely hear him anymore. 

 

”I’m sure Harry is heartbroken to hear that… now, now, it’s the boy last few moments on earth, after all… surely you won’t let him die without your blessing, Lucius? Come now, show some mercy…”

 

Another ripple of snickers erupts from the circle of Death Eaters. 

 

”Let _The Boy Who Lived_ go to his grave believing that he _could_ have been… mister… Harry… _Malfoy_ …”

 

The chuckles and titters escalate into roars of laughter around them and Voldemort smiles coldly, his scarlet eyes never wavering from Lucius’ face. 

 

The blonde’s throat works furiously and his grey eyes shine with desperation and unshed tears. He shakes his head quickly once more.

 

”No?”

 

”No, my Lord”, he croaks. ”They are just friends from school… y-you know what… school boys… are like…”

 

”I know what _some_ school boys are like”, Voldemort says lightly, to a chorus of laughs.

 

”They are just friends”, Lucius insists. ”Draco knows where our true loyalties lie… like my wife and myself he presents a respectable face to the world, but _that_ is our _true_ masks…”

 

 _He’s lying,_ Harry thinks. _He’s just trying to save his face. It’s not true. It can’t be true._

 

Voldemort says nothing for a moment, just stares at Lucius with unblinking, piercing eyes. Immediately the laughter dies down around them. Lucius’ eyes flit up to Voldemort’s face for a split second, then instantly fixes on his chest again. 

 

”How it must pain you then… to see your flesh and blood in the arms of a filthy blood-traitor…” Voldemort says finally, as casually as if he’d commented on the weather. 

 

”Yes, my Lord”, Lucius says fiercely, his eyelids fluttering with relief. ”You have no idea…”

 

”Hm…” Voldemort says softly. ”I _am_ disappointed in you, Lucius, and I do expect more faithful service in the future…”

 

”Of course, my Lord, of course… you are merciful, _thank you_ —”

 

”I _am_ ”, Voldemort whispers. ”That is why, Lucius… I am going to offer you… one… hit…”

 

”M-my Lord…?”

 

”And don’t get carried away, for _I_ must be the one to _kill_ him…” 

 

Lucius’ eyes flit up to Voldemort’s again and for a moment, a whole conversation seems to transpire in this single eye-lock… Harry’s heart is pounding slowly but forcefully in his chest, like it’s trying to beat a hole in his ribcage and escape. He can’t blame it. He’s not like the Malfoys, he doesn’t take care of his heart, doesn’t guard it… he wears it on his sleeve and no matter how many beatings it takes, he just keeps putting it out there for more, and now… now he’s really gone and done it. 

 

”How old are you now, Harry?” Voldemort asks suddenly, but without looking at him. ”Fourteen years? Fifteen? You’re in Fourth Year, I believe? That’s four years at Hogwarts, four years of… _friendship_ … four years of watching _The Boy Who Lived_ ensnare your son’s — your _only_ son’s — senses, surely with that much frustration built up, you would leap at the chance to release some of it?”

 

Lucius finally breaks the eye-lock and stares at the ground in front of him instead. Something resembling resolve seeps into the cloudy grey. His knuckles whiten around the silver top of his walking stick… Harry remembers the weight of it on the back of his neck, as Lucius used it to shepherd him and Draco towards the Stadium at the Quidditch World Cup… that seems like a different lifetime now… 

 

”Well, Lord Voldemort is merciful… and Lord Voldemort is generous… he is _all yours_ , Lucius… all I ask, is that you leave him for me to finish off…”

 

With that, Voldemort takes three steps back.

 

Lucius keeps staring intently at the space in front of him, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

 

After a second that feels like hours, he takes a small, jerky step forward into the circle and turns his body to face the grave — and Harry — and although his face is a mask, Harry can tell his hands are shaking slightly when he pulls his wand from its hiding place inside the walking stick and slowly aims it at Harry’s heart, still without looking straight at his face… Harry can see his lips move, but his voice is so soft the word doesn’t reach him —

 

Excruciating pain beyond anything Harry has ever felt before in his life courses through him… every bone in his body is set aflame inside his skin and he jerks violently inside the restraints of the ropes, slamming his head back against the marble gravestone with a sickening _crunch_ and his head explodes in white light… he must be screaming, because he feels the inside of his throat burn and the muscles around his jaws throb —

 

Then just as suddenly as it struck, the pain has left him again although his arms and legs continue to spasm for a few seconds and he strains against the ropes. He remembers the spider in Moody’s class, twitching on the table long after Moody lifted his wand… _The Cruciatus Curse,_ he thinks faintly.

 

”Is that all?” Voldemort whispers from wherever he’s standing now, but Harry keeps his eyes screwed shut.

 

In the next moment, the pain is back and this time it doesn’t stop; it just continues to course through his body relentlessly, gradually growing in intensity until Harry can’t think at all. His entire existence is narrowed to a fine point and that point is pain…

 

After what must have been hours, days, lifetimes, he’s vaguely aware of the Curse lifting again. But the pain doesn’t immediately stop, it just fades slightly. His whole body continues to convulse and his head pounds, either from the lingering effects of the Curse or from the imapct with the headstone — Harry’s lost count on how many times he’s slammed his hack back against it now…

 

Voldemort is clapping his hands together somewhere, a mocking show of impression and soon the other Death Eaters join in. But Harry is too drained to lift his head and even if he could, he doesn’t need to see any more… doesn’t want to see any more… he just wants it to be over, as horrible as that is and as weak as that undoubtedly makes him, Harry just want it all to be over now… _Please, let it be over… Please, let him just kill me —_

 

”Satisfied?” Voldemort asks Lucius, a hint of mocking in his soft voice. ”Sure?”

 

”Y-yes, my Lord… th-thank you…” 

 

”Very well… then resume your position in the ranks. The time has come to fulfil the prophecy at last.”

 

Harry glances up, despite himself. His head is still hanging in defeat, but eyes flitting upwards instinctively — a knee jerk reaction, nothing more — at the mention of _a prophecy_ and he catches the ripple of restless movement amongst the Death Eaters. Here is the last piece of a puzzle, Harry just knows it. Unfortunately he hasn’t seen the other pieces, or at least not all of them so this one means nothing to him. 

 

Of course, he remembers his daddy mentioning the prophecy, the reason Voldemort set out to find and kill him as a baby, but as always when talking about the past, Remus had been very vague… _I’m just glad you’re safe…_

 

 _Oh, my poor daddy,_ Harry thinks miserably as tears well up in his eyes and stream down his face. _He’ll be crushed. Both him and dad. They’ll never get over this…_

 

He’s aware of Voldemort moving closer and closer, his soft voice slithering around Harry’s pounding head like an insistent fly, as he tells his Death Eaters the story of what really happened that Hallowe’en night almost fourteen years ago. He casually mentions Lily’s _sacrifice_ — like a footnote in the story of how he himself lost his body and his powers — like a silly, stupid thing that _she_ did to _herself,_ that then had accidental consequences for _him_ … Harry is torn between laughing bitterly and shouting _’you murdered her’_ but he is too tired and in too much pain to do either, and besides it doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past. She is dead. And soon he will be too… 

 

Again, his mind is flooded with images of his dads; horrible fantasies of the look on their faces as his dead and mangled body is dumped on their doorstep, like some hateful special delivery in the green glow from the Dark Mark conjured over the cottage… and he imagines Dumbledore standing up in front of the whole school in the Great Hall and making a small speech where he tells them all, and then Trelawny nodding sombrely as if to say, _’You see? What have I been telling you for the last two years?’_

 

And Draco… Draco’s face… _Will he cry?_

 

No, Draco cry in public? Not a chance… _Where will he go? The bathroom again? Who will comfort him?_

 

This thought hurts more than any of the others and Harry’s chest feels impossibly tight, like someone is pushing on his breast bone and crushing his ribs. His heart pounds frantically, harder and harder. 

 

 _There’s no-one,_ he thinks. _Draco has no-one to go to._

 

 _No, stop thinking like this,_ he tells himself furiously. _There’s Blaise, and Pansy, even Seamus — he won’t accept it at first, but they’re good friends. They won’t give up. They’ll pester him and provoke him and push him until he breaks, and then they’ll be there to pick up the pieces… like I would have done —_

 

 _But it should be me,_ he thinks in dismay. _It’s not fair. I don’t want to die, I’m not ready!_

 

”… but no matter”, Voldemort says lightly, his breath hitting Harry’s forehead as he leans in close. ”I can touch him now.”

 

Harry feels the back of one cold, spindly finger brush against his cheek and again pain bursts behind his eyes and he lets out a scream. It’s nothing compared to the Cruciatus Curse, so it startles him more than anything. Voldemort laughs softly, then moves away again. 

 

He continues to spin his story, telling his Death Eaters about going into hiding, possessing the bodies of animals to get by while biding his time… he tells them about Quirrell and the plot to get his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone, and Harry just wants to yell at him to _shut up_ , but at the same time he’s painfully aware that as long as Voldemort is speaking, he gets to live… and maybe, just maybe if the man — no, can’t call him _a man_ anymore — if the Dark Lord speaks for long enough, help will come…

 

”… but my plan to get the Stone failed. I was thwarted… thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter!” he hisses. ”The servant died when I left his body and I was left as weak as I had ever been… I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn’t then fear that I might never regain my powers… yes, that was my darkest hour… I could not hope to find another wizard to possess, and I had given up hope that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me.”

 

A heavy pause. The air thick with tension and fear, as everyone waits for an inevitable strike as Voldemort lashes out, unsure of who will be the unlucky one to be on the receiving end… but it doesn’t come. Voldemort continues talking like he’d never paused at all.

 

”Then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned all hope, it happened at last… a servant did return to me: Wormtail here was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted as friends, and decided to return to his master finally… he tracked me down, with the aid of rats he met along the way… but it wasn’t a smooth journey, was it, Wormtail? On the very edge of the forest where he’d hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for a bite to eat, and whom should he meet there, but Bertha Jorkins from the Ministry of Magic… this could have been the end, but displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected of him, Wormtail actually managed to convince Bertha to accompany him, then overpowered her and brought her to me…”

 

Despite himself, Harry looks up. Voldemort has begun to pace within the circle of his Death Eaters now, resembling a caged animal — ironically enough… 

 

”And Bertha Jorkins, my friends, proved to be quite a gift indeed”, he says, his red eyes glinting like rubies in the gloom. ”With a little persuasion, she told us about the Triwizard Tournament happening at Hogwarts, and she also told us she knew of a faithful Death Eater that would only be too willing to help me, if only I could contact him… unfortunately, after we’d broken the powerful memory charm that had been placed on her and extracted all the useful information, Bertha Jorkins head and body were damaged beyond repair, so I could not possess her… Wormtail, of course, being a wanted man was not ideal for possession either, but — poor wizard though he is, he is at least capable of following instructions — and together we managed to return me to a body of sorts, and weak though it was, it was sufficient to sustain me until such time that we could get our hands on the three essential ingredients needed for the potion that would revive me… well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? _flesh given by a servant_ … but in order to retrieve the bones of my father, we would have to come here… and then there was the third and most important ingredient…”

 

He stops pacing abruptly and wheels around to stare back at Harry, a small smile still visible on horrible face. 

 

” _Blood of a foe…_ Wormtail would have had me use the blood of any witch or wizard that hates me… but I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again and be more powerful than I had ever been. I wanted Harry Potter’s blood. I wanted the blood of the one who stripped me of my powers in the first place, for then the lingering protection of his mother’s sacrifice would reside in my veins too…”

 

The cold smile grows into a terrible grin. The eyes seem to glow, like burning embers. 

 

”But how to get at Harry Potter? Protected not only by Ancient Magic, but powerful wizards, whether at home or at Hogwarts… I knew I had to gett him away from them all, get him here… _but how?_ ”

 

Strolling closer to Harry once more, Voldemort stands astride the crack in his father’s grave. His eyes burning with what Harry can only assume is hatred, because his scar bursts open once more and his eyes fill with tears. He grinds his teeth together, to keep the screams from escaping, not wanting to give Voldemort the pleasure…

 

”By using my faithful servant, stationed at Hogwarts, of course… with his help, the boy’s name was entered into the Goblet of Fire and he won the Tournament, just as I meant for him to do, ensuring that he would be the first person to touch the Triwizard Cup once my servant placed it inside the maze and secretly turned it into a Portkey… a whimsical, but ingenius plan… and it worked without a hitch — well — _one_ hitch”, he adds, glancing over at Krum’s body indifferently. ”But no matter… I have been resurrected and I have Harry Potter… exactly where I want him… now, let us pick up where we left off, thirteen years ago…”

 

 _Do it_ , Harry thinks faintly. _Just do it._

 

”It is laughable to think that this boy has ever been — or will ever be — stronger than Lord Voldemort, but I don’t want there to be even a whisper of a doubt in anyone’s mind, so therefore, I am going to prove my power to you, my servants, once and for all… I am going to kill Harry Potter, right here… right now… where there is no mother to die for him, no Dumbledore or werewolves to protect him… and I am even going to give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and then you will see… who is the stronger…”

 

Sweeping around, so that his robes flutter around his ankles, Voldemort moves to stand farther away from the grave. Then turning his head to the side, he speaks in a hissing undertone, _”Just a little longer, Nagini…”_

 

Harry doesn’t turn his head to look, doesn’t want to see the snake coiling in anticipation in the shadows. He feels sick. 

 

Voldemort turns his head back again, then plants his feet squarely on the ground, visibly steeling himself.

 

”Untie the boy, Wormtail… and give him back his wand…”

 

Wormtail approaches him hurriedly and begins to loosen the ropes around his body, eyes fixed on his own hands. The new silvery one glints beautifully in the gloom. Harry blinks heavily, forcing himself to focus… The ropes untie and fall away. He tries to get his legs under him, but he’d forgotten about his sprained ankle and immediately collapses on all fours.

 

There’s a chorus of snickers around him. The Death Eaters move closer to him, tightening the circle around him and Voldemort. His arms and legs tremble violently, either from the residual effects of the Cruciatus or from adrenaline, he’s not sure… Suddenly his wand is suddenly shoved in his face and he grabs it clumsily in one shaking hand. 

 

”You have been taught how to duel, I presume, Harry Potter?” Voldemort says. 

 

Harry’s mind automatically flashes back to the Duelling Club in Second Year and Gilderoy Lockhart showing him an elaborate wand movement and promptly dropping his wand… a bitter laugh wells up in his throat, but he manages to swallow it down again. 

 

”Maybe not… well, lesson one, is to _stand up_ …”

 

More snickers and chortles from the Death Eaters. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Harry pushes himself to his feet and squares his shoulders. 

 

”Very good”, Voldemort says mockingly. ”Lesson two… we bow to each other…”

 

Voldemort bends forward a little, but carefully keeps his face upturned so that he doesn’t break their eye-lock and Harry glares back stubbornly, his back still straight and vibrating with tension… _I won’t,_ he thinks furiously. _I won’t give him the satisfaction —_

 

”I said _bow!_ ” Voldemort hisses, slashing his wand through the air. 

 

An invisible force slams against Harry’s shoulders, bending his spine and forcing him to fold at the waist. 

 

”Very good”, Voldemort says. ”Not the brightest student, but O for effort…” 

 

The Death Eaters howl with laughter and clap their hands. 

 

The invisible force lifts from Harry’s back again and he almost topples over backwards. Staggering back, he puts his weight on his sprained ankle and a dull pain shoots up his leg. _But it’s nothing,_ he realises. Now that he’s experienced real pain, a throbbing ankle and a stinging scar is nothing. 

 

”And now…” Voldemort whispers. ”We duel—”

 

Harry twitches with the impulse to defend himself against the strike, but he barely has time to lift his wand let alone think of a spell, before excruciating pain is coursing through his whole body once more. He crumples helplessly to the ground, writhing in agony as his bones burn and his skin is pierced by thousands of ice-cold needles. Acid flows through his veins. His head is split open. Bolts of lightening shooting through the crack in his skull and incinerating his brain —

 

Then it stops. Harry becomes aware of screaming, only when his voice stops suddenly and he gasps for breath. Rolling over and scrambling to his feet, he staggers sideways on his shaking legs and stumbles into the chest of a Death Eater who immediately pushes him away with a snarl. 

 

”It hurts, I know…” Voldemort says softly. ”You don’t want me to do that anymore, do you, Harry? You want me to put you out of your misery, don’t you? Go on, ask me to… _Beg me,_ Harry… Beg for death and Lord Voldemort shall comply… you see, I’m not heartless — not anymore, thanks to you —  so _beg_ …”

 

 _No,_ Harry thinks. 

 

”I said… beg me! _Imperio!_ ”

 

All the residual pain evaporates from Harry’s body suddenly and his mind is wiped of all thought, which is almost a greater relief… he feels light, like he might soar away at any moment… he’s flying, even with his feet firmly planted on the ground, he’s flying… dreaming… _beg,_ a soft voice whispers in his head… _say ’please’… just say ’please’…_

 

 _I won’t,_ a stronger voice speaks up at the back of his mind. _I won’t do it, I won’t beg._

 

_Just say ’please’…_

 

_I won’t —_

 

_SAY ’PLEASE’ —_

 

”I WON’T!” 

 

A stunned silence spreads over the small crowd, as Harry’s bellowed words echo across the graveyard. The light sensation leaves his body, his jumbled thoughts rush back into his head and the aches of his body slam back into place. He staggers slightly under the weight of it all. 

 

” _You won’t?_ ” Voldemort repeats coldly. 

 

The Death Eaters aren’t laughing anymore. 

 

”You prefer a slow and painful death, then? Fine by me… _Cruc—!_ ”

 

But this time, Harry is ready for it. Before the curse has left Voldemort’s lips, he throws himself to the ground and scrambles behind the gravestone. He hears the crack of the marble as the curse hits the face of the headstone. 

 

”We are not playing hide and seek, Harry Potter…” Voldemort says loudly.

 

Harry can hear a few nervous chuckles from the Death Eaters again. He glances up at their masked faces. He is completely surrounded. It’s over. Even if he could match Lord Voldemort in a duel, he is out-numbered thirty to one… he _is_ going to die. It’s not so much a fear, or even a thought anymore. It’s a sense that fills his whole body and mind. A certainty. 

 

 _But I am_ not _going to die like_ this, _hiding like a child playing hide and seek_ , he thinks furiously. _I won’t die kneeling at Voldemort’s feet, anymore than I’ll beg him to kill me!_

 

Standing on shaky legs, he grips his wand tightly and holds it out in front of him. He hears one of the Death Eaters closest to him let out a small huff of surprise and incredulity, or maybe it’s just amusement. 

 

He hurls himself round the headstone. Voldemort is standing right there, his wand is aimed straight at Harry’s face and his mouth is already moving to form the Killing Curse. 

 

”EXPELLIARMUS!” Harry shouts. 

 

A jet of red light shoots out of Harry’s wand and connects with the jet from Voldemort’s — green like Harry’s nightmares — and suddenly, Harry feels his wand begin to vibrate violently in his hand. He quickly lifts his other hand to help steady it. 

 

He stares helplessly across the thread of light leading from his wand to Voldemort’s, right into the other wizard’s face. The scarlet eyes are burning more than ever, but there is a hit of panic around them now. _He doesn’t know what’s going on either,_ Harry realises and it feels like a triumph. Maybe he’ll die here tonight, maybe he’ll die any second now, but at least he will have gone down fighting…

 

The red of Harry’s Disarming Charm and the green of Voldemort’s Killing Curse both begin to fade and soon their wands are connected by one narrow beam of golden light… Suddenly, Harry feels his feet lift from the ground and before he knows it, he is soaring into the air… Voldemort too, is suspended above the ground, gripping his own wand with both hands and staring in astonishment at the golden beam of light still connecting their wands… they begin to drift away from Tom Riddle Senior’s grave and the circle of Death Eaters and land on a patch of grass away from the gravestones. 

 

The Death Eaters come running after them, shouting in panic and asking Voldemort for instructions. Some of them draw their own wands, but no-one dares interfere… 

 

”Do nothing!” Voldemort yells. 

 

The golden beam of light connecting their wands begins to splinter, until a whole weave of narrow beams is surrounding them in a dome-shaped web of light. 

 

The Death Eaters run back and forth on the other side, their voices strangely muffled now. 

 

”NO NOTHING!” Voldemort shrieks again. 

 

Suddenly a soft, beautiful sound begins to swell out of the many beams of light and fill the air inside the web. Although it’s almost more of a feeling, than a sound. It seems to fill Harry’s body with warmth and his chest with a frail but beautiful hope… _it’s like phoenix song,_ he thinks astonished… _hold on_ , it seems to tell him. 

 

His wand is vibrating more violently than ever and beads of light begin to travel up and down the thread of light connecting it to Voldemort’s, before they slowly start to move away from Voldemort and closer to him… and the closer they get, the more violently his wand vibrates… the hotter the wood seems to get inside his hands… as the first bead gets close to the tip, Harry is sure the wand will burst into flame if it connects and concentrates all of his thoughts on willing it to move back… 

 

The bead pauses uncertainly and Harry’s wand shudders in his hands. He fixes his eyes on Voldemort’s wand and focuses all of his remaining strength on one single thought: get the beads to his wand instead —

 

Voldemort’s eyes widen in shock and a hint of fear flares up inside them as the beads begin to travel back down the thread of light. 

 

Hope swells inside Harry’s chest and he lets it fuel him, pouring all of it into his new mission — to push those beads into Voldemort’s wand —

 

When the first bead to reach the other wizard’s wand touches the tip, the wand emits a scream as if in pain and then smoke begins to curl out of it, except it’s not just smoke… it’s a shape… it’s the shape of a hand, and Harry realises this must be the ghost — or echo — of Wormtail’s silver hand, like the wand is regurgitating its’ own spells… no sooner has this thought flared inside Harry’s head than another, horrible thought occurs to him… the spell performed by the wand before the hand… _the Killing Curse… Krum_ …

 

Sure enough, the next smoky shape to emerge from the tip of Voldemort’s wand turns out to be a human head… Krum’s head, furrowed brows and all… followed by the rest of him, and he slouches over to stand next to Harry, frowning deeply at the thread of light connecting the two wands as another shape starts to emerge…

 

”Hold on, Harry”, Krum’s ghost — _ghost? echo? shadow?_ Harry thinks numbly — mutters darkly. ”Don’t break the connection.”

 

The next shape is that of an old man, the muggle from Harry’s dream last summer. He leans heavily on his walking stick and moves to stand next to Krum, glaring at Voldemort. 

 

”Killed me, that one…” he says. ”You fight him, boy!”

 

The next person to push its way out of Voldemort’s wand is a woman Harry doesn’t recognise, but knows must be Bertha Jorkins. 

 

”Don’t let go, now!” she cries. ”Don’t let him get you, Harry — don’t let go!”

 

But Harry is barely listening. He stares transfixed as another woman’s head pushes its way out of Voldemort’s wand, his heart hammering in his chest… _Lily_ … She lands gracefully on the ground, her long hair falling in cascades down her body as she straightens up. She sweeps over to stand next to Harry, Krum, Bertha Jorkins and the old man instinctively moving aside to let her pass… Harry tries to keep his eyes fixed on Voldemort, but her smile burns in his peripheral and his vision blurs… 

 

”Sweetheart…” her soft voice says. 

 

A half-choked sob pushes its way out of Harry’s throat and he turns his head to look at her face. She is beautiful and her almond-shaped eyes are shining somehow, despite her form being made from some sort of dense smoke… and her smile… it’s radiating with love, pure and unconditional love… Harry thinks of Remus and his chest pinches. 

 

”It’s all right, sweetie…” Lily says softly. ”We weren’t meant to have more than a year together, you and I… but know that you carry my love with you always…”

 

Harry is gripped by a overwhelming emotion, it feels like guilt and fear and relief all mixed into one. He knows he should say something to her. But his throat has closed up and no matter how hard he tries, his voice just won’t cooperate. 

 

The other three shadows of Voldemort’s victims begin to pace around them, as if to counteract the Death Eaters still running around on the outside of the dome, and they murmur encouragements to Harry when they pass him, but they linger around Voldemort… glaring at him and hissing in his ears… Voldemort is shaking desperately, his eyes wide with fear now… 

 

The shape of James Potter falls out of his wand and straightens up. Harry looks from Lily to him and quickly takes in the man’s features, his square face and messy hair… Joining his wife’s side, he looks down into Harry’s face and gives him a sad smile… _Please don’t say anything_ , Harry hears himself think, sure he won’t be able to bear it. 

 

”When the connection is broken”, James says quietly. ”We will only be able to linger for a moment, but it will give you enough time to get to the Portkey… it will take you back to Hogwarts, do you understand, Harry?”

 

Nodding quickly, Harry grips his wand desperately. It’s begun to slide in his sweaty palms. 

 

”Be ready to run…” James whispers. ”Do it now… _now!_ ”

 

Pulling his wand upwards with all his strength, Harry breaks the golden thread and in the blink of an eye, the entire dome of light vanishes and the phoenix song dies… but the shadows of Voldemort’s victims do not disappear, they close in on Voldemort —

 

Harry bolts. He’s only vaguely aware of charging into the bodies of two stunned Death Eaters who stagger aside as he pushes them away. He hurtles across the graveyard while everyone is still too shocked to react. 

 

”OUT OF THE WAY!” he hears Voldemort shriek, and he knows the shadow figures must have vanished finally.

 

”I WILL KILL HIM—!”

 

Harry’s chest is tight and his entire body is shaking violently, but he manages to stay on his feet long enough to reach Krum… Harry feels a curse brush the side of his head, just before he collapses over Krum’s body. He thrusts his wand out in front of him and gasps, ” _Accio Cup!_ ”

 

” _HE IS MINE—!_ ”

 

The Cup soars through the air and he grasps the handle. Voldemort’s scream of fury is instantly cut off and Harry feels himself dragged through space by an invisible hook behind his navel, the Cup magically stuck to his hand and his whole body stuck to Krum’s. 

 


	31. A new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry returns from the graveyard...

Suddenly solid ground comes up to meet them and Harry is jostled off Krum’s body and rolls away. He feels fresh grass under his hands and face. But it feels unsteady, like waves underneath him. His stomach rolls and he retches desperately. 

 

There’s a deafening roar of noise around him, it sounds like cheers and screams all at once. He tries to push himself up, but his arms are too weak. They tremble and then give out again. 

 

”Harry! _Harry!_ ”

 

Warm hands are on him, patting him down frantically and then pulling him up. He feels the ground glide away from him and then his face is smothered by a solid chest instead and strong arms are around him. He immediately recognises his daddy’s smells and eagerly burrows into his embrace… disbelief and immense relief courses through him… _I got away… I’m safe…_

 

There are frantic voices all around them, most of them blurring together into a murmur of worry, but a couple of voices stand out and Harry can make out words, even though he doesn’t want to… 

 

”What’s going on? What—?”

 

”Oh my goodness, Dumbledore… is that… Viktor Krum, but he’s… _he’s dead—!_ ”

 

”What’s happened?”

 

He doesn’t want to. He can’t bear it, it’s all too much… Instead he focuses on the steady heartbeat against his cheek and the arms around his body that are holding him up, and holding him together. 

 

”Harry?” Harry recognises his dad’s voice next to him. ”Harry, are you hurt? Remus, let go for a sec—”

 

Harry feels the growl grow inside his daddy’s chest, even before it rolls out of his mouth. The arms tighten around him and he’s lifted off the ground entirely. He gratefully lifts his legs and locks them around his daddy’s waist, clinging to his neck desperately. 

 

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, and when he feels his dad’s hand shake his shoulder insistently, he presses them shut even tighter. 

 

”Harry, can you answer me? _Are you hurt?_ What happ—?”

 

Remus turns around swiftly and starts to walk away. 

 

”REMUS—!” Sirius splutters angrily behind them. 

 

” _I’m taking him to the Hospital Wing!_ ” Remus snaps, his voice strained but calm.

 

”Now, wait one minute!” one of the other voices protests. ”We have questions—!”

 

”Back off, Fudge”, Sirius barks. 

 

” _A boy is dead—!_ ”

 

Sirius continues to argue with the Minister, and Harry can hear Dumbledore’s voice join in through the hysterical screams and worried voices of the crowd. But it all blends together as Remus carries him further and further away from the commotion. He is aware of someone else walking alongside them, but doesn’t lift his head from Remus’ shoulder or open his eyes to see who it is. He’s still fighting nausea and adrenaline is pumping through his body, making him tremble violently. Remus’ heartbeat is a soothing distraction, but not nearly enough. 

 

As they reach the front steps of the castle, the familiar _clunk, clunk, clunk_ tells him that the person is Moody and he thinks he should tell him what’s happened. He should tell both of them. But he can bring himself to open his mouth, partly because he’s worried he’ll throw up all over his daddy’s shoulder if he does and partly because he knows as soon as he says it out loud, it will change everything forever… and for a moment, just _one_ moment, he wants to pretend he’s a small boy again, safe in his daddy’s arms…

 

”You’re welcome to use my office… safe from prying eyes…” Moody growls. ”I have some Calming Draught—”

 

Harry feels his daddy shake his head once, ”Hospital Wing.”

 

It’s not until they actually reach the Hospital Wing, that the men realises that Madam Pomfrey isn’t there, she’s at the Quidditch Stadium they’ve just come from. Moody mentions his office again, but before Remus can reply the doors burst open behind them with a _bang_. Harry tenses up and clutches his daddy’s neck tighter. 

 

He feels one of the hands on his back begin to move gently and then a nose nuzzling the side of his face, as his daddy whispers soothing nothings to him until he begins to relax slightly again. 

 

”Put him down here, Remus…” Madam Pomfrey murmurs softly. 

 

Remus gently begins to manoeuvre Harry onto a bed, but Harry instantly springs to life again and clambers onto him — suddenly terrified of losing the connection, and of having to face reality again. 

 

”It’s okay, Harry…” Remus murmurs softly. ”Shhh… it’s okay… you’re okay… I’m going to be right here, but I have to let go just for a second… _just for a second_ … just so Madam Pomfrey can do a diagnostics spell, that’s all…”

 

”Merlin, he’s shaking like a leaf…” Madam Pomfrey whispers. 

 

”Shhh, Harry, it’s okay…” Remus continues to soothe him and strokes his back gently. ”I’m going to be right here… you’re safe now… I promise you… _you’re safe_ …”

 

He feels hands ripping his shoulders, and although he knows logically that they must belong to Moody and Madam Pomfrey, all he can think is that some manevolent force is pulling him away from his daddy… he struggles against them with all his remaining strength, which isn’t much and they easily overpower him… his fingers scrambles to grip his daddy’s robes frantically, in one last attempt to cling on. 

 

But before he knows it, he’s lifted away and pushed down on his back on a bed. The fight goes out of him and he goes limp against the mattress, a soft sob pushing its way out of his throat and hot tears seep through his lashes and roll down the sides of his temples.

 

He feels his daddy’s hand caress his head and hears him hush softly, his calm voice vibrating slightly with emotion now and Harry suspects he’s fighting tears of his own. 

 

”It’s all right, Potter…” Madam Pomfrey says. ”This won’t hurt a bit.”

 

The warm hand disappears from his forehead and he whimpers. Blinking his eyes open finally, he peers up at the three frowning faces looming over him. Remus’ immediately breaks out into a smile as their eyes lock, even as tears stream down his ashen face… 

 

”You’re okay”, he croaks. ”You’re safe now…”

 

 _Yes_ , Harry thinks faintly, but then he remembers… _no, he’s not safe now, no-one is safe now…_ he begins to shake his head and opens his mouth to speak, but his daddy hushes him gently once more. 

 

”Yes, you are. You’re safe. I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again, do you hear me?” he says fiercely. 

 

Harry feels himself nod automatically. 

 

”There”, Madam Pomfrey says and lifts her wand away. 

 

Immediately, Remus hands are back on Harry. His fingers combing through his hair and pawing at his cheek, the other hand pressing down on his heart as if to reassure himself that it’s still beating. 

 

”He is all right”, Madam Pomfrey continues slowly. ”He’s in shock and he’s got a minor fracture in his leg, but he’ll be fine… I can also detect residual magic in his system, but there’s no lasting damage—”

 

”What magic?” Remus asks swiftly. 

 

The witch gives him a pained look, but Harry can bring himself to watch as his daddy reacts to the truth so screws his eyes shut again and grips the hand on top of his chest. 

 

”Unforgivables… The Imperius… _and_ the Cruciatus—”

 

Remus lets out a small gasp and the fingers in Harry’s hair tighten their grip. Harry almost welcomes the sharp sting. Strands of hair tickle his cheek as his daddy rests his forehead on the pillow next to him. 

 

”But he’s okay now”, Madam Pomfrey says forcefully. ”There’s no lasting damage at all, it’s just shock… I’ll give him something for it right now—!”

 

The hand on top of his chest twists around to grab his and warm lips brush against his forehead. He feels them move slightly as his daddy whispers something, but his voice is to soft and strangled for Harry make out the words. 

 

”Help him sit up”, Madam Pomfrey says as she returns. ”Or just hold his head up…”

 

The hand in his hair move to cup the back of his head and he feels it pull his head up gently.

 

”Drink this, Harry”, Remus murmurs. ”It will make you feel better…”

 

He feels cool glass touch his lips and opens his mouth to drink the potion. It burns down his throat and fills him with warmth. He coughs a little and splutters, but manages to get it all down. His daddy murmuring encouraging nonsense to him the whole time and then gently lowers his head again. Harry feels his muscles relax as the shock and adrenaline is drained from his system. His mind feels thick and cottony inside his head, and waves of exhaustion travels through his body. 

 

”Shhh… go to sleep, cub… I’ll be right here, you’re safe now…”

 

 

*

 

Someone is shaking him roughly. The soft darkness of sleep slowly shrinks into the corners of his consciousness and he blinks his eyes open in confusion. His eyelids still feel incredibly heavy and his vision is still blurred, even after his glasses are pushed onto his face. 

 

”Come on, get up…” Moody growls quietly. 

 

Harry looks around in a muted panic, searching through the fog for a sign of his daddy. But it’s just him and Moody in the Hospital Wing now. The man’s magical eye has rolled into his skull, but his dark one is fixed on Harry’s face and it’s shining with urgency. 

 

”What… what is…” Harry struggles to form the words, his tongue thick and uncooperative in his mouth. ”What’s wrong…where’s… daddy…?”

 

”In my office, with the others… they need to talk to you, let’s go…”

 

 _That doesn’t make any sense,_ Harry thinks numbly and stumbles to his feet as the older man pulls him off the bed. 

 

”It’s all right, Potter… I’m going to put a Protection Charm on you, just to be safe…”

 

Harry feels like someone has just doused him with cold water and it wakes him up a little, but not nearly enough. His head feels fuzzy still, like someone has rammed handfuls of cotton in there and no matter how many times he blinks, he can’t get the sleep out of his eyes… his eyelids are heavy and so are his legs and arms, he discovers as he stumbles after Moody. 

 

The man puts his arm around him and it steadies him slightly, but doesn’t feel nearly as comforting as when either of his dads hold him. Even Professor Snape’s arm feels more natural around his shoulders, he thinks. But at least Moody is a great Auror, or was before he retired… and Harry knows he can trust him, he’s not sure right now why that is but he’s sure he can… and he knows the man will keep him safe, until he’s back in his daddy’s arms…

 

”You keep quiet now”, the man growls. ”Can’t take any chances…”

 

 _What,_ Harry tries to say, but his tongue won’t move at all anymore and his thoughts drag slowly through his mind. _Why does thinking require so much effort all of a sudden?_

 

He’s vaguely aware of hushed voices, talking frantically nearby. Talking on top of each other, in a jumble of words — _other students? where is Draco? I need to see Draco_ — he stumbles slightly as the arm around his shoulders tighten painfully and pulls him more insistently along the corridor. 

 

 _Why?_ he thinks faintly. _Why are we hurrying? Is something wrong?_

 

Only now does he notice that his ankle doesn’t hurt anymore and the realisation distracts him for a moment. He looks down, his head hanging heavily as he tries to look at his ankle… it’s hard to get a good look; it keeps moving _… I’m moving, that’s why… walking… I’m walking… ankle healed… in my sleep?_

 

_What about… arm…?_

 

He tries to twist his arm and look at the place where Womtail dug the dagger into his flesh, and promptly stumbles over his feet. He would have fallen flat on his face, but Moody keeps him upright. 

 

”Pay attention, Potter!” he grunts. 

 

”So- rry!” Harry gasps. 

 

There’s a creak of hinges and then Harry is propelled inside a room. He immediately recognises his daddy’s old office, except instead of tanks with grindylows — _ugh, grindylows,_ he thinks. _Don’t like them_ — _wait, what? — focus!_ — instead of tanks with exciting creatures, like his daddy had kept in this office last year, it’s now filled with curious objects. 

 

Harry sits down heavily as Moody pushes him into a chair, and stares in wonder at a squiggly, golden aerial that keeps thrumming insistently in the corner. 

 

”So, what happened, Potter?” Moody grunts. 

 

”What’s that?” Harry asks, squinting at the squiggly thing. 

 

”Secrecy Sensor”, Moody grunts. ”What happened in the g— in the maze, Potter?”

 

”Where’s… my dads?” Harry says suddenly, looking around as if expecting them to jump out of the shadows. 

 

”On their way, now focus…”

 

But Harry has already been distracted by the mirror hanging on the wall opposite him, slightly behind where Moody is towering over him. As he’d whipped his head around, there had been no movement in the mirror to match it… as Harry squints at it now, he realises he can’t actually see his reflection in the glass at all… instead, it’s full of shadows… 

 

”That’s a Foe Glass”, Moody says impatiently. ” _Now, focus!_ You need to tell me everything that happened—!”

 

”Shouldn’t we wait… for the… for—?”

 

”No!” Moody growls harshly. ”You need to tell me what happened tonight! It’s important, Potter!”

 

”Cup… was a portkey…”

 

”Yes, yes… _then_ what happened?”

 

”You-Know-Who”, Harry mumbles, feeling himself shiver as his mind flashes back to the graveyard. ”Death Eaters… he killed Krum… killed him—”

 

”The Death Eaters came? And The Dark Lord, he’s back?”

 

”There was… a potion, he… got his body…”

 

”So he’s definitely returned?” Moody murmurs, his magical eye swivelling to the door behind Harry once, then fixes on his face again. ”And the Death Eaters, they returned? How did he treat them? Did he forgive them?”

 

Suddenly, Harry remembers… how could he have forgotten? There’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts! They’re not safe here at all, _he’s here, Voldemort said he’s here_ —

 

”Sit down, Potter!” 

 

It’s not until Harry feels a heavy hand on top of his shoulder that he realises he’d been struggling to stand up again. 

 

”But you don’t understand — Death Eater — here—!”

 

”I know”, Moody murmurs, his good eye twinkling. ”I know who the Death Eater is.”

 

”Karkaroff”, Harry exclaims, as the realisation hits him. ”Where? — You have him? He's locked up—?”

 

”Karkaroff?” Moody repeats and lets out a tinkle of cold laughter, and it feels off to Harry but he can’t put his finger on why. ”Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn on his arm… he betrayed too many of the Dark Lord’s faithful supporters to dare show his face among them now… but I doubt he’ll get far, the Dark Lord has ways of tracking those who betray him…”

 

”He’s gone?” Harry mumbles, his mind racing. ”Then we’re safe? He’s definitely gone?”

 

”I don’t think you understood me, Potter… Karkaroff isn’t the faithful Death Eater that’s been serving the Dark Lord—”

 

But Harry isn't listening anymore. The words have triggered another memory. Voldemort kept going on about his most faithful servant… _he couldn’t be with us here tonight, because he is at Hogwarts…_

 

He’s aware of Moody sighing above him. He glances up at him and tries to focus. The shadows in the Foe Glass, he notices suddenly. They’re clearer — _closer? clearer?_ — a hand suddenly slaps him across the face and Harry snaps his eyes back to Moody and stares in shock at the man’s eyes… _he slapped me—!_

 

”Now try and focus, boy…” the man growls. 

 

”Karkaroff didn’t… didn’t put my name in the… in the Goblet of Fire?” Harry stammers. 

 

”Good boy… No, he didn’t. I did that.”

 

Harry shakes his head — _no_ — no, Voldemort said his Death Eater put his name in the Goblet, it was part of the plan —

 

”Listen to me, boy…” Moody says quietly and draws his wand. ”I assure you, _I_ was the one who put a Confundus on the Goblet of Fire and put your name inside… now I’m asking you, did the Dark Lord forgive the Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban?”

 

Harry stares in confusion as the wand is suddenly aimed at his face.

 

”He forgave the scum that never even went to look for him? The crummy cowards who betrayed him and sold out the other Death Eaters, just so they could go free… the faithless, worthless pieces of filth that were parading around like clowns at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled in terror at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky…”

 

”You…” Harry says, frowning in confusion. ”You fired…? But…”

 

He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the cotton lining his skull and muffling his thoughts. A sense of panic flares inside his chest and urges him to _do something_ , but his thoughts are too slow, too jumbled and he doesn’t know _why_ he’s panicked or _what_ he’s meant to be doing —

 

”If there is one thing I hate more than any other”, Moody says quietly. ”It’s a Death Eater who walked free… those rummy cowards turned their backs on my master when he needed them most, I expected him to punish them… I expected him to torture them… tell me hurt them, Harry? Tell me he told them that I, and I alone, has remained faithful… prepared to risk all to deliver to him the one thing he needed… _you_ —”

 

”You didn’t… it can’t have been… can’t be you…”

 

”Oh yes…” Moody whispers. ”I hasn’t been easy, I’ve had to use every ounce of cunning I possess to get you through these tasks… although I have to say, you improved significantly after the first one. I was very pleased indeed that I didn’t have to aid you at all in the second one. And I knew, as long as I got you in that maze, preferably with a head start, then I could get you to that Cup… you may have noticed you barely ran into any obstacles inside that maze, well that was because I was patrolling around it, keeping an eye on you…”

 

He gestures to his magical eye and grins, while keeping his wand steady in his other hand. Still pointing at Harry’s face.

 

”I made sure to remove the bigger obstacles, and I also made sure to put the other champions out of action… well, the French girl and Diggory at least, I had expected Diggory to take out Krum for me, but the boy might have been dumber than a brick, but his Seeker reflexes were quite something…”

 

Rage flares up inside Harry’s chest, as the man talks about Krum… remembering the boy’s lifeless body under his hands… 

 

”But by that time, I could see you’d already reached the Cup so I let him go…” Moody continues. ”I couldn’t understand why you were hesitating, why you wouldn’t just grab the Cup… I was ready to kill Krum myself, but then the both of you touched it and disappeared… well, never mind… it all worked out in the end…”

 

Harry stares in disbelief. His sluggish thoughts struggle to keep up with everything Moody is telling him. But it doesn’t make any sense, so he’s sure he must be missing something… because why would Mad-Eye Moody, the greatest Auror of modern time… how can he possibly be a supporter of Voldemort?

 

The shadows inside the Foe Glass have sharpened further, Harry notices. He can make out the outlines of four figures now. 

 

”Except…” Moody whispers. ”Except you’re here, you’re still alive, Harry Potter… why are you still alive? I know the Dark Lord was so looking forward to killing you… ah well, imagine how pleased he will be, how proud… when he learns that I have done it for him…”

 

The lopsided gash of a mouth widens in a slightly manic grin and both the good and the magical eye seem to shine with excitement. 

 

”I will be his dearest, closest supporter… closer than a _son_ …”

 

There is sudden flash of red light in the room, and Harry is sure that Moody has fired a curse at him… but it doesn’t hit him. Instead he hears the deafening _crash_ and _crunch_ of the door splintering off its hinges and slamming open behind him. 

 

Moody is thrown backwards off his feet and lands heavily on the floor. Staring in shock at the place where the man’s head had just been, Harry sees the scowling faces of his dads, Professor Snape and Dumbledore inside the Foe Glass and his heart leaps into his throat. 

 

He jumps to his feet and wheels around. Hands are on him in a second, pulling him roughly to the side and then he’s got his daddy’s arms around him once more. Twisting his head, he sees Professor Snape and Sirius advance on Moody, their wands raised and pointing at the man’s heart… for a brief moment, he think this is the first time he has ever seen his dad and Head of House standing this close together and glaring at someone else, as opposed to each other. 

 

”Are you okay, Harry?” Remus hisses wildly, his hands roaming over his head and back, feeling for injuries. 

 

”Yes”, he gasps. 

 

He can feel the man’s heartbeat against his face. It’s a lot more frantic than before. 

  
”I’m… I’m fine…” he mumbles. 

 

”Harry…” Dumbledore says calmy, as he steps through the doorway. ”Please tell us what happened?”

 

”He needs rest, Albus!” Remus snaps angrily. ”He can tell us in the morning!”

 

”I’ve slept for hours”, Harry tells his daddy, even as he struggles to keep his heavy eyelids open. 

 

Remus gives him a sharp look, ”What are you talking about?”

 

”I’ve been asleep this whole time, it’s only been about twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, since Moody woke me up”, he says.

 

”Harry”, Remus says. ”I was only out of the room for two minutes! I wouldn’t have left at all, but I needed to talk to your dad and Professor Dumbledore, and I was afraid our voices would wake you… he offered to watch over you while I stepped outside”, he adds in a disgusted voice. 

 

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”I told you I wouldn’t leave you”, Remus reminds him with a frown. ”I was just outside the door… I don’t understand how he managed to smuggle you past us… did you have your Invisibility Cloak?”

 

Harry shakes his head, ”He put this charm on me… said it was a Protection, it sort of felt like he’d poured cold water over my head…”

 

”Concealment Charm”, Professor Snape mutters. 

 

”But… but I didn’t see you…” Harry mumbles. ”I looked for you, but you weren’t there…”

 

”Probably a Befuddlement Charm, as well”, Professor Dumbledore says gently. ”Now… I understand it’s been a great shock, Harry… and he will get his rest, Remus… but something tells me there are some answers that can’t wait until the morning… am I right Harry?”

 

Swallowing thickly past the lump in his throat, Harry nods.

 

”He’s back…” he whispers thickly. ”You-Know-Who, he’s back…”

 

A tension seems to spread inside the room. Harry thinks he catches both his dad and Professor Snape flinch in his peripheral, but when he looks over they’re both as stoic as ever. 

 

”The Triwizard Cup, it was a portkey?” Dumbledore says softly. 

 

”Yes”, Harry croaks. ”Krum and I, we both grabbed it together… we wanted to tie… we didn’t know…”

 

”I understand, Harry…” Dumbledore says and nods seriously. ”And where did it take you?”

 

”A graveyard, far from here… where You-Know-Who’s father is buried…”

 

The old man seems to pale before Harry’s eyes.

 

”How do you know that, Harry?”

 

”Because I saw his grave, I was tied to… to the headstone… and Vol- Voldemort, he needed his bones for the potion… Wormtail was helping make it, and they needed bones from his father, flesh from his servant, and… and blood… blood from me…”

 

Several things happen at once. Dumbledore lurches forward, his eyes flashing dangerously at Harry. At the same time, both Sirius and Professor Snape wheel around and one of them accidentally sends a hex flying. It hits the floor in the corner with a sudden _crack_ , and everyone jumps. 

 

”They… they _bled you_ , Harry?” Sirius says, his voice oddly hollow but his eyes bright with anger. 

 

”Y-yeah… Wormtail cut my arm with a dagger… the potion worked… Vol- Voldemort got his body and powers back… and he said… said he needed _my_ blood, because of the protection… L-Lily’s protection that’s still in me… it’s in him too now, so he… he can _touch me_ …”

 

Remus arms tighten around him and he shoves his face into the crook of his neck. Harry can feel the wetness of tears from his face as they smear against his own skin. 

 

Harry tries to continue, to tell them the rest. Images of Krum dying and the Death Eaters arriving on the scene fill his mind… then Lucius stepping inside the circle and facing him, pointing his wand at his heart and torturing him… duelling with Voldemort… their wands connecting and the shadows of Voldemort’s victims helping Harrry escape… 

 

But he can’t tell them any of it, because his throat has closed up again.

 

”Come on, cub… let’s get you out of here…” Remus murmurs into his ear and he nods.

 

”No”, Dumbledore says sharply. ”He needs to stay, Remus.”

 

”Don’t start with me, Albus”, Remus growls. 

 

”But he needs to understand”, Dumbledore counters insistently. ”Understanding is the first step to acceptance and only with acceptance can there be recovery. Harry needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why…”

 

”Moody”, Harry gasps. ”How can it have been Moody?”

 

”This man is not Alastor Moody”, Dumbledore says, moving closer to the unconscious body on the floor and staring into the face with an intensity that makes Harry feel a flutter of fear. ”My guess is that you have never even met Alastor Moody, Harry…”

 

Professor Snape immediately bends down and roughly pats the body down, until he finds Moody’s hip-flask in one of his robes pockets. He flicks the top open and sniffs the contents with a scowl. 

 

”Polyjuice”, he mutters darkly. 

 

”What? What’s that?” Harry mumbles in confusion. 

 

”It’s a potion that allows the drinker to assume the physical form of another”, Remus tells him calmly.

 

”You mean… that’s not… that’s not him?”

 

”No”, Dumbledore says. ”But my guess is that the real Moody is somewhere in this office… he would have needed to keep him close, so that he could continue to brew the Polyjuice potion…”

 

”Wha… _why?_ ” says aghast. 

 

”You need a piece of the person you want to turn into”, Remus explains, then at Harry’s alarmed look he hurriedly adds, ”A strand of hair will do!”

 

”Severus”, Professor Dumbledore says. ”Will you please go and fetch your strongest Veritaserum, and then go down to the kitchens and fetch a house-elf called Winky and bring her here?”

 

Professor Snape gives him a curt nod and immediately pockets his wand, then stalks out of the office without a word or without looking at anyone. Harry tilts his head back and stares up into Remus’ face. The man’s frown smooths out immediately and he smiles down at him. 

 

”Daddy… my head feels funny… like cotton…”

 

”Oh, I’m sorry, Harry, hang on”, the man mumbles and fumbles with his wand. ” _Finite…_ ”

 

Immediately, Harry’s head clears and the office becomes clearer and sharper around him as well. He stares down the unconscious body of Moody — or the person impersonating him — and gasps as the face begins to shift suddenly, the skin bubbling… With a sudden _clunk_ , the wooden leg falls to the floor as a real leg begins to grow out and Sirius jumps back swiftly, out of the way. 

 

”Ah…” Dumbledore murmurs. ”Now we’ll know for sure…”

 

The magical eye pops out of the socket and rolls away along the floor. Harry can see a strip of white under the lowered lashes and realises there’s now a real eye under there. 

 

Slowly, the face changes and thins. The skin becoming paler and a nose sprouting out where earlier there’d been just a small chunk of flesh. Freckles cover the new nose and spread over the cheeks. The lopsided gash of a mouth straightens, lips becoming fuller. Finally the hair changes from its mousy brown to a golden blonde. 

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat as he stares down at the new face of the man. He knows this face, he knows who this man is… he has seen him before, not in real life but — _in Dumbledore’s Pensieve_ , he realises suddenly, _that’s where I’ve seen him too, but I never realised!_ — because he’s also the man from his dream, his first dream about Voldemort last summer, when he’d been taken care of by two men… Wormtail and a stranger… _this man,_ Harry realises now. _How did I not recognise him in the Pensieve?_

 

But now that he thinks about it, it’s hardly surprising… the boy in the Pensieve, although blonde and pale like this older man in front of him, had looked nothing like this… he’d been handsome and young, he’d wailed in panic and called out for his mother… he’d had the wild and open look of innocence about him… whereas this man, his face is lined prematurely and even in unconsciousness he looks haunted, jaded… 

 

The door of the office opens again next to them. He hears the soft gasp from Professor Snape who stops dead on the threshold. 

 

”Barty Crouch!”

 

”What…” a squeaky voice says timidly. ”Master Barty, master Barty! What is you doing here?”

 

A small creatures suddenly comes running across the floor and throws herself on top of Barty Crouch Junior’s chest and wails, ”You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed master’s son!”

 

”He is simply Stunned, Winky…” Dumbledore says calmly. ”Now please step aside… Severus, have you got the Veritaserum?”

 

Professor Snape shakes himself from his stupor and steps forward, handing the Headmaster a small glass phial containing a clear liquid. 

 

Sirius helps Dumbledore drag Barty Crouch Junior’s body up to sitting, slumped against the wall beneath the Foe Glass. Then the Headmaster opens the man’s mouth and lets three drops of the liquid fall onto his tongue. He then points his wand at the man’s chest and whispers, ” _Rennervate…_ ”

 

The man’s eyes flutter open and he looks around in mild confusion, his mouth slack. Dumbledore kneels on the floor in front of him. 

 

”Can you hear me?”

 

”Yes…” the man murmurs, his voice is surprisingly soft.

 

”I would like you to tell us how you come to be here? How did you escape from Azkaban?”

 

”My mother…” he murmurs, a small frown appearing between his brows as though he can quite understand why he’s speaking. ”She saved me. She knew she was dying, so she persuaded my father to save me as a last favour to her. He loved her. So he agreed. They came to visit me and gave me a draught of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother’s hairs. She took a draught of Polyjuice containing one of mine. Thus we took on each other’s appearance and I walked out, while she stayed.”

 

”Say no more, master Barty”, the house-elf begs, sobbing into her hands. ”You is getting your father into trouble, say no more!”

 

”My mother died shortly after… she was careful to take the Polyjuice Potion until they end, and so they buried her under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.”

 

”And what did your father do with you, when he got you home?” Dumbledore asks quietly. 

 

”He never loved me…” the man says quietly, his eyelids fluttering. 

 

Harry feels his knees buckle, and without missing a beat, his daddy’s arms lift him up. He clambers onto him and rests his head gratefully against his shoulder as he listens to the horrible story… his heart pinching with pity, even after everything that the man has done to him…

 

”He staged my mother’s death”, Barty Crouch Junior continues. ”A quiet, private funeral. Empty grave. Winky nursed me back to health, then I had to be concealed… controlled… my father used many spells to subdue me, but I thought only of finding my master, of returning to his service… the Dark Lord, he would welcome me back, he would… would be proud of me, would love me like a father should… that was all I could think of…”

 

”How did your father subdue you?” Dumbledore asks. 

 

”The Imperius… I was under my father’s control and hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, day and night… Winky was my carer and my keeper… she pitied me and persuaded my father to give me treats sometimes for good behaviour, like going to the World Cup…”

 

”Did anyone else know?” Dumbledore asks. 

 

”Yes… a Ministry witch, Bertha Jorkins, she came to the house one night to get my father's signature on some papers, she heard Winky talking to me in the kitchen and when my father arrived home she confronted him… he put a Memory Charm on her, but he went too far… damaged her memory permanently…”

 

”I see… tell me about the World Cup…”

 

”Winky convinced my father to let me go. They told everyone she was saving a seat for him in the Top Box, but in actuality I was sitting there, under the Invisibility Cloak… imagine my surprise and delight, when Harry Potter himself sat down in the seat next to me… I even managed to lift the wand from his pocket… you see, I’d been growing stronger for months, able to throw off my father’s Imperius Curse without him or Winky knowing… I had no plan, then… I just saw the wand and knew I wanted it, I hadn’t held a wand in my hand since before I was sent to Azkaban… but then, as we were walking back to the tent, we heard the Death Eaters, the cowards who’d evaded Azkaban… not enslaved as I was, but free to seek our master, yet they did not… rage filled me… I conjured the Dark Mark… the filthy traitors ran as soon as they saw it!”

 

”And then what happened?” Dumbledore prompts. 

 

”Ministry wizards arrived, shooting Stunning spells everywhere… one of them hit me and Winky where we were hiding behind the trees. I was still under the Invisibility Cloak, but Winky was found… of course, my father knew I must be close by and as soon as the coast was clear he came back for me and put me under the Imperius once more and took me home… he’d dismissed Winky for her failure to keep me under control, so it was just the two of us in the house… just two people in one big house, never saying a word to each other… I might as well have stayed in Azkaban… but then…”

 

The young man’s head rolls on top of his shoulders and a smile slowly breaks out on his face, his eyelids fluttering more than ever as if he’s remembering a dream. 

 

”Then my master came for me… _he came for me_ … he came to the house one evening, in the arms of his servant. They’d captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania, tortured her, and she’d told them about me… and the Triwizard Tournament… and the old Auror Mad-Eye Moody set to start teaching… it was perfect… my master thought of a plan, a perfect plan… but he needed _me_ … so they came to the house”, his smile grows wider and his eyes become a little more focused. ”My father answered the door, oh you should have seen his face…  my master put him under the Imperius Curse, now _he_ was the one being controlled, imprisoned… and I — I was released, awakened, myself again and alive as I hadn’t been for years — he needed someone faithful, someone he could trust, someone cunning, to go to Hogwarts and guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without arousing suspicion… someone brave enough to risk everything to serve him and the cause. I was ready. It had been my dream for years. My greatest ambition. To serve him, to prove myself to him, to earn his gratitude and respect!”

 

Remus arms have tightened steadily around Harry’s body throughout the story. Harry can feel them digging into his back and squeezing his lungs through the ribcage. But he welcomes the dull pain of it. He feels exhausted still and although his mind has been cleared of the befuddlement charm, he feels his mind begin to collapse on itself again... too much information... too much pain and suffering, it's not fair…. he remembers the young, terrified boy from the Pensieve… calling out for his mother and his father… _You are not my son, I have no son…_

 

 _My father never loved me,_ he’d said. 

 

 _Was it true?_ Harry thinks sadly. _If it is, then no wonder he leapt at the chance to be included in another family, dark though it was…_

 

Barty Crouch Senior had managed to escape the house — that was Wormtail’s big blunder, that almost got him fed to the snake Nagini — and he’d come to Hogwarts to warn Dumbledore and come clean about everything. That night when Harry found him. He feels sick thinking about it now. The insane ramblings, they all made sense now. And the feet sticking out from behind the tree. Dead. Killed. 

 

 _Killed by his own son,_ Harry thinks and clings to Remus’ neck a little tighter. 

 

He tunes out the rest of the story, can’t bear to hear any more…

 

The house-elf is wailing and sobbing uncontrollably next to her master now. But Crouch Junior doesn't seem to be aware of her at all, or anyone in the room. He continues to smile dreamily, his eyes glazed over as he tells them about volunteering to place the Triwizard Cup in the maze and turning it into a portkey. 

 

”It worked… the plan worked… _he is back_ … just ask Harry Potter… he knows… he was there, he _saw_ … he _made it happen_ …”

 

Harry feels the weight of everyone’s eyes on him and instinctively turns his head to bury his face into the crook of his daddy’s neck. 

 

”That’s enough, Albus”, Remus says firmly. ”I’m taking Harry to his dorm.”

 

Harry holds his breath as he waits for the argument to break out, but nothing but silence follows his daddy’s statement. Then they’re moving. Harry continues to cling to his daddy as he carries him out of the office. 

 

After a moment, he hears two set of footsteps join them. He feels his dad’s hand on the back of his neck, while the other person picks up their pace and walks ahead of them, leading the way to the dungeons. 

 

He begins to doze off, but comes to again as they begin to descend the spiral staircase. 

 

”Let me get some Dreamless Sleep from my office…” Professor Snape’s soft voice says. 

 

”Thank you, Severus…” Remus murmurs. 

 

They enter the Slytherin Common Room and Snape continues to lead the way to Harry’s dorm, whispering to them to be quiet so they don’t wake up the other students, before he opens the door. 

 

Remus gently lowers Harry onto his four-poster and tucks him in, just like he used to do when he was little and it makes Harry feel a little better… like maybe all the horrible things that happened tonight, maybe they’re just like his nightmares and his daddy can chase them away with chocolate and kisses… Remus grabs the phial of Dreamless Sleep from Professor Snape and helps Harry sip it carefully. Exhaustion descends on him once more and his eyelids begin to droop. 

 

”I’ll sit here until you fall asleep… ” Rermus whispers and caresses his head gently. ”It’s okay, you won’t have any nightmares tonight… and in the morning when you wake up, you just stay in the Common Room until we get here, okay?”

 

Harry nods sleepily.

 

”Good boy… now go to sleep…”

 

His daddy bends down to brush a feathery kiss over the scar on his forehead. It’s not until the pain suddenly stops, that Harry realises his scar has been hurting this whole time…

 

”Daddy…” he mumbles, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

 

”Yes, Harry?”

 

”How am I going to tell… Draco…?”

 

But before his daddy has a chance to answer, Harry is already drifting off to sleep.

 

 

*

 

The next time he wakes up, the dorm is still dark. Draco is cuddled up next to him on the bed, his pale fingers gripping Harry’s hand loosely in his sleep. Harry gives them a gentle squeeze and watches apprehensively as the other boy blinks his eyes open. They’re slightly swollen and bloodshot, but he still looks beautiful to Harry, who feels a weight sinking from his chest into his stomach when he thinks about what’s going to happen now… He opens his mouth to speak, but can’t get the words out. 

 

”Don’t tell me…” Draco says, his voice thick with repressed emotion and his eyes brimming with tears again. ”Please… I don’t want to know…” 

 

Harry nods and curls his arm over the other boy’s back and pulls him closer. 

 

”It’ll be all right”, he murmurs and brushes his lips over Draco’s brow. 

 

”Promise…?” Draco whispers. 

 

”Yeah… Yeah, I’ll make sure of it”, Harry says and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he just knows it’s true, then before he drifts off to sleep again he mumbles. ”I love you, Draco…” 

 

If the blonde answers, Harry doesn’t hear it. He’s already slipping into a fitfull sleep. The Dreamless Potion has left his system now and his sleep is haunted by snippets of images, jumbled flashes from the graveyard and images his mind conjures up from what Barty Crouch Junior told them… maybe it’s the comforting weight of Draco’s head on his chest, or the steady beat of the other boy’s heart against his arm, but even through the worst images, Harry remains aware that it’s all just a dream…

 

 

*

 

The next time he wakes up, the dorm is flooded with a soft green light which tells him it’s morning already. Draco is still curled up next to him, but he can tell by the boy’s breathing that he’s awake. He turns his head and brushes his lips over the blonde hair and inhales happily… they’re safe… _for now,_ a traitorous voice whispers in the back of his mind. 

 

”You awake?” Draco whispers and tilts his head up. 

 

”No…” Harry mumbles sleepily, then startles as a sudden pain in the skin covering his collarbone. ”OW! What the… you…”

 

He pushes back slightly from the other boy and blinking the sleep from his eyes he looks between Draco’s smirk and the red mark beneath his throat. 

 

”You _bit_ me!”

 

”Sorry”, Draco says and looks anything but. ”You are awake now?”

 

”You…” 

 

Harry wrestles Draco to his back and tries to nibble his ear, but the other boy shrieks and squirms away, holding Harry’s head at arms’ length. 

 

”I give! _I give!_ ”

 

”Of course you do, you’re not the one with a bite mark on his chest—!”

 

” _Too much information!_ ” Blaise shouts from outside the bed-hangings that are drawn on the other side of the bed. 

 

Harry and Draco immediately still and stare at each other. As the laughter evaporates from them and clears from their eyes, reality starts seeping in again and the weight of everything that’s happened is slowly but steadily lowered into Harry’s chest again. He scrambles off Draco and sits up. Draco follows suit, his worried eyes pinned to Harry’s and his chest rising and falling quickly, too quickly… _he’s ready to know now,_ Harry thinks with a pang, unsure of whether he’s ready to tell him. 

 

”Let’s open the hangings…” Draco murmurs. ”They deserve to know as well.”

 

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Harry nods. Together they pull the hangings aside and then sit side by side on Harry’s bed, facing the other boys who are all in their own beds still, but judging by the lack of sleep in their eyes, Harry thinks they must have been up for ages, waiting for Harry to wake up. There’s a sense of austerity inside the dorm, confirmed by the serious expressions on the boys’ faces. Even Seamus lacks his usual grin. 

 

Not wanting to prolong the agony of dread any longer, Harry starts talking. He tells them everything that happened after he and Krum touched the Triwizard Cup, skipping all the gruesome details that Seamus doesn’t request to hear and then rounds the whole story up abruptly with the Death Eaters arriving, skipping ahead to reveals Moody’s true identity. There’s a chorus of gasps around the room. Seamus eyes are round as saucers and his whole body is twitching with the impulse to jump to his feet. 

 

Harry describes being under the Befuddlement Charm and taken to the Derence Against the Dark Arts teacher’s office and then his dads showing up with Professor Snape and Dumbledore, more or less blasting the door open and Stunning the imposter in one powerful strike. 

 

”But hang on, how did you get out of there?” Blaise demands. ”How did you get away from the graveyard?”

 

”Luck, really”, Harry mutters. ”He wanted to duel with me, but of course I didn’t stand a chance… which was the whole point, I think… but then, something weird happened, some weird spell that made our wands connect… it was enough to distract him for a few seconds, so I could run back to the portkey.”

 

”The Death Eaters…” Draco murmurs quietly next to him.. ”Do you… do you know who—?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says shortly and turns to face him for the first time since he started talking and he feels his heart break a little when realisation flares inside the grey eyes. ”I’m sorry…”

 

Draco just gives his head a small shake and looks away. 

 

”So we’ve been taught Defence by a Death Eater this whole year…” Seamus says. ”That’s rich… Hey, he could have killed you any time. Why didn’t he?”

 

”I told you, they needed to get me to the graveyard. They needed my blood.”

 

”But why didn’t he kill you in the Hospital Wing?” Seamus insists. ”Why risk everything and smuggle you out of there?”

 

”I guess he only had a few minutes”, Harry says and shrugs uncomfortably. 

 

”That’s all it would take”, Seamus counters. 

 

”Yeah, but he had questions… he wanted to know if the plan worked, if You-Know-Who was really back and then… then he wanted to know if the other Death Eaters were punished, tortured—”

 

”And were they?” Draco asks, his voice carefully neutral.

 

”No”, Harry says immediately. ”Only one, Avery. The others were spared—”

 

Draco snorts softly, a look of bitterness twisting his face. 

 

”Well”, Harry amends awkwardly. ”Spared the Cruciatus Curse anyway… that’s not nearly as pleasant as the Imperius, by the way!”

 

Draco’s eyes whip back to his. 

 

”You… you didn’t say…”

 

”Well, what other curse would Voldemort choose in a duel”, Harry says evasively and turns back to the others. ”I got three blasts of it last night, and it was more painful than you can ever imagine…”

 

”Wow”, Seamus breathes, his eyes rounder than ever, then almost perks up as a thought hits him. ”Hey, that’s all three Unforgivables you’ve had now Harry!”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says, grinning despite himself. ”I’ve collected the set!”

 

The Irish boy’s face breaks out in a matching grin and it’s like all the tensions Harry’s collected in the last twenty-four hours suddenly snaps and he starts snickering. Soon, Seamus joins him. 

 

”What’s wrong with you?” Draco snaps, glaring between the two of them. 

 

Harry just shakes his head, still chuckling. It’s not _really_ funny, but he’s cried and screamed enough to last him a lifetime lately, so he might as well laugh for a bit…

 

”Well, we better get going…” Blaise says, frowning at Harry. ”You’re staying here, I’m assuming?”

 

Harry nods. 

 

”See you later then…” the other boy mumbles. 

 

Harry watches in silence as the others get ready for the day. Draco eyes him apprehensively for a moment, before he turns to follow the others out of the dorm. 

 

”See you later”, Harry says and it almost comes out like a question. 

 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco mutters and leans in to brush a quick kiss to his lips. 

 

When he’s alone in the dorm, Harry considers going back to sleep for a while but the thought of nightmares gives him the shove he needs to finally get out of bed and he begins to change out of his pyjamas. He spends the morning hanging out in the Common Room, playing Exploding Solitaire and flicking through _Quidditch Through the Ages_. 

 

Finally, around lunctime, he hears the brick wall rearrange itself and looks up to see Remus walk through the passageway. Harry immediately jumps to his feet and runs across the room, throwing is arms around him and hugging him tightly, getting hugged even tighter in return and welcoming the crushing sensation more than ever. 

 

”How did you sleep, pup?” Remus murmurs, caressing his hair. ”Any nightmares?”

 

”A few… it was all right…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”I’m here to take you to the Headmaster’s office, but let’s sit down for a second first…”

 

Harry nods and disentangles himself from his daddy’s embrace again. He leads him over to the loveseat in front of the fire and moves the Exploding Snap cards out of the way so he can sit down next to him. Clearly unable to maintain any sort of distance, even if it is just a matter of inches, Remus drapes his arm over the backrest just so that he can continue to pet Harry’s hair… Harry doesn’t mind though, he leans into the touch gratefully and sighs. 

 

”How are you feeling?” Remus asks him seriously. ”Really, Harry…”

 

”I feel…” Harry sighs, trailing off. ”I don’t know what I feel… but I feel it a lot…”

 

Remus smiles sadly and nods. 

 

”After everything Barty Crouch Junior has told us, the Headmaster will only need you to fill in a few gaps, so don’t feel like you have to go over everything that happened last night, unless you want to… if you don’t feel up to talking to Professor Dumbledore at all, you can just tell me if you want as well…”

 

”Dumbledore would be okay with that?” Harry says doubtfully, because somehow he doesn’t think so. 

 

”Is that what you want?” Remus counters, with a stubborn frown on his face that says he’ll make it happen if that’s the case. 

 

Harry doesn’t want his dads to fight with Dumbledore, though. Especially not now. So he says he’ll be fine. 

 

”But promise this will be the last time, and I won’t have to go over it all again?” he begs. ”I just went over it with my friends this morning, I don’t think I can stand talking about it all the time…”

 

”I promise”, Remus says and pulls him into a one-armed hug, kissing him on the temple. ”Dumbledore told the school this morning and he asked everyone to leave you alone and not ask you about it… So you told Draco… is he okay?”

 

”I don’t know”, Harry mumbles. ”I told him his dad’s fine, that Voldemort didn’t torture him or anything.”

 

”And did that make him feel better?”

 

”I don’t think so… I thought it would, but…”

 

Remus sighs and kisses him again, then leans back to look him in the eyes. 

 

”You did great, Harry… I think Draco is worried about the future, that’s all. With good reason. Now listen to me… there’s nothing you can do to fix any of this, it’s not on you to make things better now, do you understand me? All you can do is be there for him. The rest is out of your hands.”

 

”Daddy… there’s one thing I didn’t tell Draco, about Lucius…”

 

Harry feels his stomach churn with worry at the thought of his daddy’s reaction, but he needs to tell him and he needs to tell him now, not later in Dumbledore’s office in front of everyone else. 

 

”What’s that, cub?”

 

”Voldemort knew about… about me and Draco”, Harry says slowly, swallowing round the lump in his throat. ”He was asking Lucius about it, mocking him… Lucius kept saying it’s not true and… Draco knows where the Malfoy family’s loyalty lies…”

 

”I wouldn’t worry about it, Harry”, Remus says kindly. ”It sounds like he was just trying to avoid the Cruciatus curse or worse…”

 

”Yeah, I know, but…” Harry looks down. ”That’s not all… Voldemort offered him… a chance to prove himself…”

 

Remus pulls him into a hug again and hushes him gently. Harry hadn’t even realised his eyes had filled with tears. 

 

”He offered him… me”, he croaks, blinking the tears away. 

 

Remus immediately stills next to him. Harry feels the tension slam into his muscles and his heartbeat slowly pick up speed. 

 

”What?” he says quietly. 

 

”Voldemort offered him me—”

 

Remus wrenches away from him and holds him at arms’ length, pinning him with wild eyes. 

 

”He put the Cruciatus on me… ow, daddy, my arms—”

 

Remus shakes himself slightly and quickly releases his grip on Harry’s arms and hugs him again instead. 

 

”I didn’t tell Draco”, Harry mumbles. ”You think I should have?”

 

”No… no, you did good…” Remus says, his voice shaking slightly. ”Harry… I’m so sorry… you had to go through any of this…”

 

”It’s okay, I’m safe now.”

 

Remus chuckles a little, then sniffles and nods. He pulls away again and combs his fingers through Harry’s hair fondly.

 

” _I’m_ supposed to be comforting _you_ … when did you become so grown up?” 

 

Harry smiles and shrugs. 

 

”All right… ready to go?” Remus says.

 

”Yeah…”

 

When they get to the Headmaster’s Office, Professor Snape and Sirius are standing on opposite ends of the room glaring at each other surly, but they both perk up when they see Harry. Sirius instantly strides across the room and envelops him in a massive hug, then leads him over to sit in the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk. 

 

The old Headmaster peers at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles and gives him a small smile. 

 

”How are you feeling today, Harry?”

 

”Better, thanks… I’m ready to tell you what happened in the graveyard”, Harry says firmly, anxious to get the whole thing over with. 

 

Dumbledore’s eyes give a small, sad twinkle like he understands this and he nods slowly. With a deep breath, Harry tells them everything in the kind of quick drone that you get after you’ve told the same story several times. He now skips the gruesome bits without missing a beat and glosses over the whole conversation between Voldemort and Lucius, after a quick glance at his daddy for reassurance. 

 

He’s aware of his dad and Professor Snape in each of his peripherals, one fidgeting with pent-up frustration and boiling anger the more Harry talks, while the other grows more and more still. By the time Harry tells them he was forced to duel, Sirius has begun to pace like a caged animal and growls expletives under his breath, despite his husband hushing him, and Professor Snape resembles a statue in the opposite corner, his glittering dark eyes the only sign that he’s still human. 

 

When Harry reaches the part where his wand connected with Voldemort’s, his throat begins to close up… _just get it over with,_ he tells himself furiously. But no matter how many times he swallows, he can’t seem to get his voice to work again. Remus hand is shaking on top of his shoulder. 

 

”The wands connected?” Sirius says, then rounds on Dumbledore. ”Why?”

 

”Priori Incantatem”, Dumbledore murmurs. 

 

”The reverse spell effect?” Remus says sharply, his shaking hand clutching Harry’s shoulder a little harder now. 

 

”Exactly”, Dumbledore says. ”Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s share cores. Each of them contain a feather from the same phoenix… _this_ phoenix, in fact—”

 

Harry glances up automatically to see the Headmaster nod towards Fawkes, perched on its peg next to the desk. The bird blinks sadly at Harry and suddenly extends its massive wings, the scarlet plumage glittering with gold when the sunlight hits it. It’s not until it lands on his knee that Harry realises _he’s_ the one shaking, not his daddy… 

 

”Mr Ollivander wrote to me and told me Harry had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago”, Dumbledore continues. 

 

”But what does that mean?” Sirius says. ”What happens when a wand meets its sister?”

 

”They will not work properly against each other. But if the owners of the wands force them to do battle, a very rare effect will take place… one of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed, in reverse…”

 

Harry stares at Fawkes, so he doesn’t have to look at anyone else’s face, but something about the bird’s sad eye reminds him of Dumbledore so he looks towards the window behind the Headmaster’s desk instead. An acid green beetle is scurrying back and forth on the window sill. 

 

”Which means…” Dumbledore continues slowly. ”That some form of Viktor Krum must have reappeared… am I right, Harry?”

 

Harry gives a jerky nod, but refuses to meet the man’s eyes again. The beetle glints in the sunlight. It looks almost tropical with it’s vivid green colouring and strange black markings on its head. 

 

”And am I also right in assuming… that you saw your parents… Harry?”

 

”What?” Sirius exclaims. 

 

”I saw James and Lily”, Harry says, a little louder than he’d intended. 

 

”I’m sorry”, Dumbledore says immediately. ”I meant, of course, to say Lily and James—”

 

”It wasn’t really them though”, Harry says, aware that Sirius has finally stopped moving around in his corner of the office. ”They were just shadows… like an echo…”

 

”I’m sorry”, Dumbledore says again softly. ”I didn’t mean to imply any differently. No spell can reawaken the dead. And you are quite right in calling it an echo, Harry. That’s essentially what it is. A reverse echo conjuring shadows of the people killed by the wand, shadows with the appearance and character of the people they portray, nothing more… but these shadows, Harry… what did they do—?”

 

”Is it really important, Albus?” Remus asks sharply. 

 

”It’s okay”, Harry mumbles, even as he clutches Fawkes with trembling hands, as if the ancient bird was some kind of stuffed animal and he was a little boy. ”They helped me. They… lingered… after I broke the connection, they lingered and distracted You-Know-Who so I could run back to the portkey… and then I came back to the maze, and you all know the rest.”

 

He feels all tension and air go out of him and falls back against the backrest of the chair, strangely relieved to have got it all off his chest. Remus hand starts massaging his shoulder gently, as Dumbledore continues to speak to the others… Harry tunes him out. He feels like he’s just been through everything all over again, and the exhaustion he felt last night comes over him again. He still hasn’t eaten anything either…

 

As if reading his thoughts, Remus bends down and whispers, ”Come on, let’s go raid the kitchen…”

 

Harry nods. Fawkes flaps its wings and leaves his lap to perch on the peg next to the window again instead and he stands up on shaky legs. 

 

”Harry”, Dumbledore says suddenly. ”I want to thank you again for the bravery you’ve shown in the past few hours, and again today in reliving the ordeal for our benefit…”

 

”Sure…” Harry mumbles awkwardly. 

 

”Now, as a Triwizard champion, you don’t have any exams to sit and it is up to you whether you want to remain at the castle for the last four days of term and attend the End of the year feast… or whether you want to accompany your dads home this afternoon…”

 

”It’s up to you”, Remus murmurs gently, rubbing his back a few times. 

 

”I think… I want to go home…”

 

”I’ll see you in a bit then, Harry, yeah?” Sirius says, with an attempt at a smile twisting his lips even though his eyes are still troubled. ”I’m just going to have a word with the Headmaster…”

 

”Fine. Harry and I will see you at home”, Remus says and then turns to Harry and lowers his voice conspiratorially, even though Harry is sure everyone can still hear him. ”But first, food.”

 

Despite everything, Harry finds himself smiling. 

 

When they enter the Hogwarts kitchens, they can see Barty Crouch’s house-elf Winky, curled up in front of the fire with a bottle of firewhiskey, still sobbing quietly to herself. Dobby is hovering over her shoulder anxiously, holding a cup of tea, but when he sees Harry and Remus he immediately runs over to them with a big grin on his face, the cooling tea spilling over his hands.

 

”Mister Harry Potter and Mister Professor Remus Lupin Potter, Sirs!”

 

”It’s just Remus Lupin”, Remus corrects the elf gently, but he seems too caught up in his joy at seeing Harry to take any notice. 

 

”’Lo Dobby”, Harry says. ”Mind if my daddy and I have some lunch in here?”

 

” _Mind?_ ” the house-elf squeaks, his massive eyes bulging even more than usual. ”It would be an _honour_ —!”

 

”All right, all right”, Harry mutters. 

 

Ever since Dumbledore made him admit he’d seen the echoes of Lily and James, Harry has been dreading his dads reactions and as he sits down with Remus at the end of the replica of the Slytherin table and waits for the house-elves to serve them some lunch, Harry begins to tense, expecting his daddy to ask him about it. But to his immense surprise and relief, Remus doesn’t even mention it. Instead he starts telling Harry about the latest chapter in his Defence textbook and Harry eagerly dives into the conversation.

 

Remus accompanies Harry to his dorm and helps him pack, frowning at the state of his bed and the mess of clothes around it, but doesn’t actually comment. 

 

They’re just getting ready to leave when Draco bursts through the door, breathing hard as if he’s been running the whole way from the Divinations classroom in the North Tower, his eyes wide with panic and immediately, Harry’s shackles go up and his heart begins to beat wildly. 

 

”What? What is it?” he says. 

 

”You…” Draco doubles over, clutching his side. ”Hang… on…”

 

”Everything all right, Draco?” Remus asks slowly. 

 

The blonde nods quickly, still struggling to get his breathing back under control. The relief that pours through Harry is nearly strong enough to knock him over and he sits down on the side of his bed. Draco straightens up again, still panting. 

 

”Ran…” he gasps. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry mutters with a half-hearted glare. ”You scared the shi- erm, I mean, you _scared_ me!”

 

”Sorry”, Draco gasps. ”Professor Snape came to tell us… you’re leaving… is it true?”

 

”Yeah, I mean, I don’t have any exams to sit anyway and… well, I don’t really fancy being the school pariah again…”

 

”You wouldn’t be, you’d have us!”

 

”I know…” Harry mumbles, looking down at his hands. ”I just… just want to go home, I guess…”

 

”But I didn’t…” Draco trails off and sighs. ”I mean, I get it… I do…”

 

Harry looks up curiously, noticing the blush in the other boy’s cheeks. Or that could be from running across the castle, he supposed.

 

”You didn’t what?” he prompts. 

 

Draco hesitates. His eyes flit between Harry and Remus, then away completely. 

 

”Tell you what”, Remus says suddenly. ”Harry, I’ll take your trunk up to the Entrance Hall and wait for you there, okay?”

 

”Oh, okay…” Harry mumbles. 

 

Remus smiles at him and levitates the trunk in front of him out of the dorm. As he passes Draco, he tells the blonde to take care of himself and that he hopes to see him again soon. The blush in Draco’s face deepens, but he quickly replies politely. 

 

As the door to the dorm shuts behind Remus, a nervous silence grows between the boys. Harry watches Draco’s face, trying to read his feelings but other than the blush in the boy’s cheeks, his face is completely unreadable and he’s definitely avoiding eye contact now. 

 

”You can tell me everything that happened, I can take it…” Draco mumbles. ”I’m not stupid, I know what… I know what they’re like…”

 

”I have told you everything”, Harry lies. 

 

Draco finally looks over at him again. There’s doubt in his eyes. Harry sighs. 

 

”Well, almost everything… You-Know-Who knew about… well, he’d been reading the Prophet, I guess, because he asked your dad about us — but it’s okay!”

 

”How is it okay?” Draco says quietly, his eyes wide. 

 

”I told you, he didn’t hurt your dad—”

 

” _Why_ didn’t he?” Draco demands. 

 

Harry shrugs awkwardly. 

 

”Harry, what did my father do to convince the Dark Lord he’s still loyal?”

 

”He’s a smooth talker”, Harry says wryly. ”I’m telling you, it’s fine—”

 

”You can be so naive sometimes”, Draco says, shaking his head. ”It’s only just _started_ —”

 

”I know that”, Harry snaps. ”But it’s going to be okay—!”

 

”Because you’ll make sure of it—?” Draco sneers. 

 

” _Yes!_ ” Harry exclaims angrily, then stands up with a sigh. ”My daddy’s waiting for me…”

 

”Wait”, Draco says hurriedly, as Harry moves to walk past him. ”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m just…”

 

”I know…” Harry mumbles. ”It’s okay…”

 

”You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, you know”, Draco mumbles, looking down. 

 

”I don’t.”

 

”Harry…” Draco shakes his head again, eyes shining. ”This is too big, even for you… but… at least promise me that, no matter what happens, _we_ will be okay?”

 

”Of course we will”, Harry says, with a confidence he doesn’t really feel, but the other boy seems to buy it, because his face soften with relief. ”I need to go… I’ll write you—”

 

”Every day?” the blonde smirks. ”How about every second day?”

 

”Oh, I see… sick of me already, are you?” Harry says wryly. 

 

A brilliant smile breaks out on Draco’s face and Harry can’t help but think it’s like seeing the sun break through the clouds after rainy day. He leans in and captures the boy’s lips with his own and Draco immediately steps closer and deepens the kiss, clutching his shoulders almost desperately. 

 

”I’ll come to Hogsmeade station to see you off on Friday”, Harry says breathlessly, after breaking the kiss. 

 

”Okay…” Draco nods, releasing him. 

 

Harry opens the door to the dorm and turns away, when Draco says his name urgently. Harry turns back around and gives him a questioning look. The blonde blushes slightly again and shakes his blonde fringe into his face.

 

”See you Friday…” he mumbles. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the readers who have stuck with me for a while, and might not have seen the note I just added to the top of the fic: 
> 
> "When I started writing this fic I knew two things: I was only going to change Sirius decision to run after Pettigrew, and all other changes after that would be in direct correlation to that one thing (e.g. Harry being sorted into Slytherin, because he's never met Dudley Dursley and so doesn't ask the hat not to place him in Slytherin) and it was heading towards a big plot twist at the end of year five.
> 
> All major canon plot points that shouldn't realistically be altered because of Sirius being a free man, him and Remus raising Harry or Harry being in Slytherin, will therefore still take place (e.g. Triwizard Tournament will take place, but the DA will not)"
> 
> (except for Sorting Seamus into Slytherin, which I have no excuse for...)
> 
> I'm as ever receptive to requests (but I'll only incorporate them if I think they make sense/like them)  
> <3


	32. Lingering shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry for the wait.

He’s standing on the shore of the Black Lake, shivering in the cold breeze as he stares out across the blanket of thick mist covering its surface. Suddenly the figure of a man emerges from the depths and as he turns around, Harry can see a pair of scarlet eyes burning in his snake-like face and his heart skips a beat…  _no… not you… not again…_

 

He tries to back away, to turn around and run — but he can’t move at all. Something is holding him in place, restraining him. He looks down in panic and sees coils of thick rope around his body. Thrashing wildly, he tries to break free of them, but the more he pulls the tighter the ropes coil around him. 

 

The _crack_ of Apparition can be heard in the near distance and he whips his head around to look in the direction of the sound. Desperate hope wells up inside him… _please let it be my dads… or Dumbledore, or anyone…_

 

But soon more _cracks_ are punctuating the silence and hooded figures approach him slowly through the mist. As they get close enough that Harry can see their masked faces, his hope sinks like boulder from his chest and lands heavily in his gut, so heavily it seems to pull his entire body down and he hangs limply from the ropes, like some abandoned puppet… _it’s over_ , he thinks numbly… _it’s all over… I’m dead… I’ll never see my dads or Draco again…_

 

As the Death Eaters begin to form a circle around him and the Dark Lord, the fog clears and he realises that he’s not standing on the shores of the Black Lake at all, in fact he’s not even on Hogwarts grounds. An endless expanse of gravestones stretches out on all sides from them; a landscape of death and sorrow… _how fitting…_

 

Voldemort slowly kills the distance between them until finally, he stands right in front of Harry. His eyes are burning with what Harry can only assume is hatred, because his scar bursts open and his eyes fill with tears. He grinds his teeth together, to keep the screams from escaping, not wanting to give Voldemort the pleasure… 

 

He just has time to register the wand aimed at his heart, before excruciating pain beyond anything he has ever felt before in his life courses through him… every bone in his body is set aflame inside his skin and he jerks violently inside the restraints of the ropes, slamming his head back against the marble gravestone with a sickening _crunch_ and his head explodes in white light… he must be screaming, because he feels the inside of his throat burn and the muscles around his jaws throb —

 

Suddenly the pain stops again, although his arms and legs continue to spasm for several long seconds and the ropes restraining him dig into his body painfully. He blinks his eyes open to see Voldemort lowering his wand… except, it’s not Voldemort standing in front of him anymore. It’s Lucius. 

The chuckles and titters from the Death Eaters escalate into roars of laughter as Harry blinks tears from his eyes. Voldemort emerges from the shadows again and walks over to stand by Lucius side, grinning coldly at Harry over the other man’s trembling shoulder. The scarlet eyes shine like burning embers through the gloom as a tinkle of cold laughter trickles out of the lipless mouth, that sends a shiver down Harry’s spine. 

”Very nice… well done, Lucius…” Voldemort says softly, brushing the back of his long, white fingers over the other man’s cheek. ”I’m impressed… now, step aside and let _me_ finish him off…” 

 

In the next moment, the pain is back and this time it doesn’t stop; it just continues to course through Harry’s body relentlessly, gradually growing in intensity until he can’t think at all. His entire existence is narrowed to a fine point and that point is _pain_ … 

 

”Harry! _Harry!_ ” 

 

He's shaking violently, the back of his head smashing against the hard surface behind him repeatedly… 

 

”HARRY!” 

 

Startling awake, Harry realises the shaking is coming from his daddy’s firm hands on his shoulders. He scrambles up to sitting, gasping for breath even as a tight vice continues to press his ribcage together. 

 

”It’s okay, you’re okay”, Remus says urgently, his hands continuing to paw at Harry’s arms and shoulders. ”It was just a nightmare, you’re home and you’re safe…"

 

” _Daddy!_ ”

 

He lurches forward to burrow into his daddy’s chest and begins to cry softly when strong arms lock around him tightly. 

 

”Shhh… it’s all right, you’re safe… I’m here, pup, I’ve got you…”

 

Harry melts into his daddy’s embrace, feeling more exhausted than he’s ever felt before in his life… not surprising, considering he’s barely had a wink of undisturbed sleep since his last night at Hogwarts and that was three nights ago now. He remembers the effect of the Dreamless Sleep potion that Professor Snape got him and wishes he had some of it left, so he could get at least a few hours rest without having to relive everything that happened in the graveyard. 

 

Eventually, he gets his breathing back under control and his tears run out.

 

”Come on, pup… let’s go make some hot chocolate”, Remus murmurs. 

 

Harry nods and disentangles himself from the man’s embrace. He pulls his soaked pyjamas off with automatic movements, barely even noticing as his daddy hands him a clean pair, just puts them on and reaches for his glasses on the nightstand. The alarm clock reads 4:30. 

 

Swallowing a groan, Harry follows Remus out of the room and into the kitchen. The sky is already light outside the windows, even though the sun has yet to climb over the horizon. 

 

Harry collapses bonelessly into his seat at the table and shoves the glasses onto his head so he can rub at his eyes. The last time he looked at his clock before falling asleep it had been 2:00, so he’s had two and a half hours of sleep — at the most — just like every other night since it happened. 

 

He can feel Remus’ worried eyes on him and pulls himself together. He’s _fine,_ he tells himself. Tired, but fine. So there’s no reason to worry his daddy.

 

The chocolate helps a little, as does the kiss that Remus plants on his forehead before he takes the seat opposite and asks Harry if he wants to talk about it. Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk, or even so much as think about it. 

 

 _But maybe that’s the problem_ , he thinks. _Maybe that’s why I keep dreaming about it, because I won’t think about it when I’m awake, so when I finally go to sleep, my brain jumps at the opportunity to process everything._

 

It’s a sound theory, but it doesn’t really matter. Awake or asleep, Harry doesn’t want to remember. So if the key to stop having nightmares is to start consciously reliving the horrors while he’s awake, then what’s the point? 

 

Either way, he’ll be back in that graveyard. 

 

”Feeling better?” Remus asks him softly. 

 

”Yeah, a little”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”Think you can go back to sleep?”

 

”No, I’m not tired anymore”, Harry lies. ”You go back to bed, though. I’m fine. Promise.”

 

Remus looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t outright call Harry on the lie. 

 

”There you are…” Sirius sleep-gravelly voice says suddenly and Harry turns around in his seat to see his dad leaning against the doorframe behind him. ”Everything alright?”

 

His sleep-swollen eyes flit from Remus to Harry, eyebrows twitching expectantly. 

 

”Yeah, fine”, Harry lies again. 

 

Sirius doesn’t look any more convinced than Remus had done. He pushes away from the doorway and walks over to the kitchen counter and starts making a pot of coffee. 

 

”Really”, Harry insists. ”You guys can go back to bed.”

 

”Nah…” Sirius mumbles. ”I’m up now.”

 

Remus pushes to his feet again and together he and Sirius start preparing breakfast, while Harry sips his hot chocolate. The eggs sizzle enthusiastically as Remus grabs the frying pan with his left hand and gives it a good shake, while twirling his wand with right to levitate two slices of bread over to an empty plate. The slices tumble through the air, darkening steadily as they are toasted from a heating charm before finally dropping to the plate. 

 

With another flick of his wand, Remus sends the plate flying across the kitchen and it lands gracefully in front of Harry on the table, soon followed by a bowl of butter and a jar of raspberry jam. 

 

Harry is halfway through the second slice when the mail arrives outside the window, the two owls landing on the window sill, the Northern white-face tapping the glass insistently with its beak while the tired-looking barn owl with a rolled up copy of the _Daily Prophet_ dangling from its mouth waits patiently next to it. 

 

They both take flight again in a flutter of wings as Sirius opens the window, only to soar inside as the window is pushed all the way open. They land gracefully on the counter and Remus unties the small message from the Northern white-face while Sirius pays the other for the paper before taking it over to the table. Harry tries to get a glimpse of the headline of the front page, but Sirius flattens the paper on the table before he has a chance. The picture had been of some old witch he didn’t recognise though, so the paper is clearly keeping quiet about the Triwizard Tournament and Viktor’s death still. 

 

”It’s from Dumbledore”, Remus says, indicating the short piece of parchment. ”He says he’ll drop by later…”

 

Sirius doesn’t reply, seemingly engrossed in an article on the second page, his coffee cooling rapidly in the forgotten cup he’s holding an inch away from his mouth. 

 

”Anything of interest?” Remus asks him as he resumes his seat opposite Harry at the table.

 

”Same old rubbish…” Sirius mutters, without tearing his eyes away from the paper. 

 

If he had, he’d notice his frown mirrored on his husband’s face. Certain that Ms Skeeter has outdone herself and not in the mood to hear about it, Harry quickly stuffs the second slice of toast into his mouth and stands up. 

 

”At least finish chewing…” Remus mutters at him. ”Are you going back to bed?”

 

Harry shakes his head firmly. 

 

”Are you sure? You look exhausted…”

 

”Walk”, Harry replies, the word muffled by his mouthful of toast.

 

He washes it down with the dregs of his hot chocolate, before putting the mug in the sink and hurrying out of the kitchen. 

 

It’s a very special feeling to be walking through a town just before sunrise, when nobody else has begun to stir yet and the streets are completely deserted, but it’s light enough to tell your brain that the day has started, yet everywhere you go it’s deathly silent, because the birds haven’t even started singing yet; you are the only person awake, but for some reason you get the eerie sense that you’re the only person _alive_ , the only person left on earth even. 

 

And if you haven’t slept, or you’ve slept very little, like Harry has in the past few days, that sense is intensified. It’s like he’s carrying his half-sleep with him wherever he goes, which creates a sort of dreamlike state and when he looks at the world around him, suddenly nothing seems really _real_ anymore. 

 

And maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s still in bed, dreaming… or maybe… maybe he’s a ghost in this world and that’s why it doesn’t seem real to him anymore. Maybe he never left the graveyard, but died there after all… and everything that’s happened after — the reverse spell and the lucky escape, returning to Hogwarts unscathed, sleeping curled around Draco safe and sound in his own bed in the Slytherin dorm, then returning home with his dads — maybe that’s all been one long dream, his own personal afterlife… _it would explain a lot_ , Harry thinks. Except the nightmares. It doesn’t explain the nightmares, unless his afterlife is set to be a tortured one, which hardly seems fair —

 

A sudden movement in Harry’s peripheral interrupts his thoughts and he wheels around, staring at the storefronts wildly as his heart begins to hammer away in his chest. 

 

But there’s nothing. Just empty shop windows and _Closed_ signs. No Death Eaters or Dark Lords, but… _maybe they’re hiding?_

 

_What was that?_

 

Harry wheels back around again, fumbling for his wand with shaky fingers as he scans the opposite side of the street, sure he caught the flash of a hex in the corner of his eye… 

 

But again, nothing. Just the rundown old pub and the massive oak tree… _but wait… there…_  

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat as he stares at the long, dark shadow behind the tree, then begins to pound twice as hard. There _is_ someone there, lurking in the shadows; a cloaked figure, half-hidden behind the tree trunk… staring at him… as the figure inches towards the edge of the shadow, something glints scarlet under the hood, like two rubies… 

 

Harry stumbles backwards with a gasp and aims his wand straight at the figure’s head, nearly dropping it entirely as his fingers go numb around the slippery wood. His heart feels close to bursting, pounding with such force he’s sure his ribs will crack from the impact. 

 

His vision narrows to a point, until everything around the shadow disappears in a whirl of nothingness. He is standing at the mouth of a tunnel and the only thing he can see at the end of it is _death_ itself, coming for him… _no, wait… Voldemort…_

 

_Wasn’t it Voldemort? Didn’t I just see —?_

 

Harry blinks. But the cloaked figure is gone now. 

 

 _Where did he go? I_ just _saw —!_

 

But again, there is nothing there. Just an old oak tree with steadily shrinking shadows around it. A soft gust of wind hits him suddenly and he shivers, becoming aware of the cold sweat coating his skin for the first time. 

 

Still clutching his wand tightly in one hand, Harry approaches the tree cautiously. But there really is no-one behind it… he sinks down to sit cross-legged in the grass between the tree roots and leans his back against the trunk. _I’m going crazy,_ he thinks numbly. Closing his eyes, he slowly releases his breath and with it, the tensions that had slammed into place the second he imagined seeing the the Dark Lord. 

 

Letting the silence wrap around his senses like a comfy blanket, he lets himself drift off and is almost asleep when the first twitters of bird song breaks through the blanket and jostles him awake again. 

 

Blinking his eyes open, Harry stares up at the branches overhead and smiles at the brilliant green of the leaves as the first rays of morning sunlight hits them and makes them look dazzlingly real… _I’m awake and I’m alive,_ Harry thinks firmly.  

 

Pushing himself to his feet again, Harry rests his palm against the rough bark of the oak and looks up at the hill in the distance, where the highest towers of Hogwarts can be seen poking up. Glancing around, Harry realises he’s been standing in this spot once before… last summer, with Draco, before… before everything, Harry’s birthday party and the World Cup and the Tournament and all the rest of it, when Harry’s worries were still normal teenage ones and they all faded away when Draco pulled him to this spot and captured his lips in a searing kiss…

 

Two fourteen-year-olds kissing the air out of each other’s lungs hungrily, blood boiling in their veins and hearts hammering happily… only a year ago, and yet they’d been _so young_ , Harry thinks now. So innocent and clueless, thinking the worst they’d ever have to face was the disapproval of Draco’s parents and the prospect of going weeks without contact… he chuckles bitterly at the thought. What he wouldn’t give to be back here a year ago now, with his fingers nestled in Draco’s blonde hair and his kiss-bruised lips throbbing… 

 

_”You need a haircut…”_

 

_”You’re one to talk…”_

 

_”Mine doesn’t get in my face and even if it did, no-one would care anyway, because I’m not half as pretty as you…”_

 

_”Idiot…”_

 

But he’s not even the same person now. Even if he could time travel back to this spot a year ago, would Draco even recognise him? Would he even be _able_ to kiss Draco so carelessly now? He’d definitely give it his best try, but he doubts he’d be able to keep his emotions at bay. 

 

After the graveyard, Harry doesn’t think he can do _anything_ without the weight of knowing how close he’d come to never have it again come crashing into it, whatever it is, whether it be a kiss or a cup of coffee… he supposes it will fade away eventually, as life moves on, but right now he can’t help feeling overwhelmingly grateful to just _be_ … knowing how close he came to _stop_ being… 

 

But it doesn’t matter, he figures. Because he has no way of travelling back in time anyway, and the Draco of now kisses with the same urgency as him, he knows. Because even though the blonde wasn’t literally in that graveyard with him, Harry knows he carries the same weights with him… and as much as Harry wishes they could have just one more carefree kiss, just for the novelty of it, he also knows that kisses only get sweeter and lighter the heavier your heart grows. Because you know what the kiss has cost you, so you know how much it’s worth. 

 

”Harry?”

 

He turns around to see Remus standing at the side of the road, watching him calmly. 

 

”You okay, cub?”

 

Harry nods and walks over to him. Remus gives him a small smile and combs his fingers through his hair, sweeping it out of his face. 

 

”You need a haircut…”

 

Harry smiles at the pang of deja vú in his chest and shakes his head. 

 

”When I was your age, I used to tell your dad the same thing and he always shook his head at me as well… he was rebelling against his parents”, Remus says. ”Is that what you’re doing, Harry?”

 

”No, never…” Harry says and bumps his nose against the taller man’s jaw bone, before readjusting his bangs to cover his forehead again. ”I just like it like this…”

 

Remus eyes shine knowingly at him, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just leans in to brush a gentle kiss against Harry’s scar through the strands of hair now covering it, before looping an arm around his shoulders. 

 

”Come on, it’s almost seven…”

 

They make their way through Hogsmeade in comfortable silence, waving at old Mrs. Kettle as pokes her head out of her front door to let out her cat Spangles and she smiles tiredly at them and waves back, before shutting the door again. 

 

When they get to the train station, the horseless carriages are nowhere to be seen and the Hogwarts Express is huffing and puffing on the tracks. Most of the students have already boarded the old steam engine, but a few are still heaving their trunks onboard. 

 

Harry spots his friends below the steps to the second carriage and all of them sans trunks, so they must have already carried them onto the train and then returned to the platform to wait for him… for some reason, the thought fills Harry with an overwhelming warmth and a small lump starts to swell in his throat. 

 

Remus hand tightens on his shoulder before falling away completely.

 

”I’ll wait for you here”, he says. 

 

Harry nods and hurries over to his friends, smiling at them all when they notice him approach and try their hardest not to beam, but instead nod coolly at him even as relief floods their eyes. 

 

Blaise, Seamus and Theo take turns to hug him goodbye, slapping his back unnecessarily hard and muttering half-hearted threats about what hexes they’ll hit him with if he doesn’t stay out of trouble during the summer, before quickly stepping back again. 

 

Daphne and Pansy also step up to give him one-armed hugs, which surprises him but makes him feel all sorts of good about everything else, and he gives them a pinched smile and waves after them as they board the train with the boys, leaving Draco to say goodbye last. 

 

An insistent bug keeps flitting around Harry’s head and he swats it away and accidentally catches Granger’s eye briefly over the blonde’s shoulder — the girl stands with one foot in the doorway to the third train carriage, ready to board, but she’s stopped dead and is staring at Harry with slightly unfocused eyes — he frowns uncomfortable and looks away again, focusing on Draco.

 

Chest tight with want, Harry glances at the other boy’s lips, but holds back. It’s not safe for them to be kissing out in the open, especially now… so instead he gives the other boy a meaningful look that he hopes tells him exactly how much he wants to kiss him. 

 

Draco stares back intently, his eyes shining with a hard determination and then… taking Harry completely by surprise, he throws his arms around his and presses their lips together passionately. Harry gasps into the kiss, but immediately presses back and pulls the other boy close. Behind them the Hogwarts Express lets out whistle and Draco pulls away slightly again, resting their foreheads together.

 

”Don’t forget your promise…” 

 

”I won’t”, Harry says thickly and it somehow feels like a vow and in a way, he guesses, it is.  

 

Draco opens his eyes again and it’s like he can see right into the core of Harry. Another whistle can be heard from the train behind them and Draco reluctantly pulls away from Harry, taking a few steps back towards the steps leading up to the small doorway. 

 

”I’ll see you soon”, he says and it’s almost a question, so Harry nods and tells him ”Yeah you will. Of course you will.”

 

Draco smiles and steps onto the Hogwarts Express, but he pauses in the doorway and turns back. 

 

”Harry…”

 

”Yeah?”

 

”I love you too, you know…”

 

”I know”, Harry smiles. 

 

Draco’s smile widens happily and he gives Harry a small little wave, before disappearing inside the train just as it starts to move away from the platform slowly. 

 

After a moment, Harry feels the weight of Remus hand on his shoulder again but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the shrinking dot that is the Hogwarts Express until it’s disappeared completely in the distance.

 

”Okay?” Remus asks softly. 

 

Harry nods, ”Yeah — no — better!”

 

When they get back to the cottage, they can hear voices talking softly but urgently in the lounge, but they fall silent immediately as the floorboards in the hallway creak under Harry’s and Remus feet. Harry cranes his neck to look into the lounge from behind Remus back and catches his dad and Professor Dumbledore huddled around a tea pot on the coffee table, before sitting up straighter.

 

”Oh hello, Albus”, Remus says and crosses the room to offer the older wizard his hand. 

 

”Remus”, Dumbledore says pleasantly and stands up. 

 

Harry hangs back in the doorway and watches warily as the two men shake hands, before Remus takes a seat next to Sirius on the sofa and receives a quick kiss on the cheek. 

 

”And Harry”, Dumbledore adds and Harry glances back to the Headmaster again. ”It’s a very nice to see you again, my boy… how are you?”

 

”Fine”, Harry mumbles, then catches himself and adds a quick _Sir,_ ignoring the way that the pale blue eyes twinkle at him over the rim of the half-moon spectacles. 

 

”I’m pleased to hear that… well, I shall be going then”, the old man adds briskly. ”Sirius, my boy, I’ll see you again soon?”

 

”Yes”, Sirius says swiftly and stands up to shake the man’s hand. ”Friday after work would be best for me, I can meet you there, say around four-thirty?”

 

”Perfect”, Dumbledore says gently. ”I shall see you then… Remus, it was nice to see you again. I’ll see myself out —”

 

A sudden knock on the front door cuts Dumbledore off and Harry catches his dads exchange a confused, and slightly worried look. 

 

”Harry, go join Remus on the sofa for a sec…” Sirius says, squeezing past him and walking out into the hall. 

 

”Harry”, Remus adds urgently. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles. 

 

He shuffles over to the sofa slowly while looking over his shoulder at his dad as he opens the front door, but as Harry moves further into the lounge, the angle makes it impossible to see into the hallway anymore, so he doesn’t see who’s at the other side of the front door. He turns around and looks at his daddy instead, who immediately smiles at him. 

 

”Hullo Sirius…” a man’s voice says as Harry sinks down on the sofa.

 

”Dawlish, Williamson… What are you doing here?”

 

”Official visit, I’m afraid…” another man’s voice says. ”Is Harry home?”

 

A moment later, Sirius returns to the lounge with two Aurors trailing after him. They remain standing just inside the doorway, even as Sirius and Dumbledore resume their seats around the coffee table, but politely accepts when Remus offers them a cup of tea. He grabs the tea pot and brushes past them out of the room, muttering about being right back and the Aurors nod and smile politely at him, before turning back to stare at Harry seriously. 

 

”Harry Potter… my name is John Dawlish”, the older of the two Aurors introduces himself. ”And this is my partner, Hubert Williamson.”

 

”Hello…” Harry mumbles nervously, nodding in greeting. 

 

”We’re heading the investigation into the… erm, _incident…_ that took place during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament and that, sadly, resulted in the death of Viktor Krum”, the Auror, Dawlish, continues. 

 

”Oh, okay”, Harry says, mouth suddenly dry. 

 

”In short, we’re here to get your statement—”

 

”But… but I’ve already told you everything…” Harry says, looking over at his dad and Dumbledore uncertainly. 

 

”I have given my statement to the Minister”, Dumbledore cuts in calmly. ”Surely, Harry shouldn’t have to go over everything again?”

 

”With all due respect, Albus”, Dawlish says, frowning. ”You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts, not a Ministry Official… we need to get Harry’s _official_ statement… should this go to trial—”

 

”Trial?” Sirius exclaims.

 

”Of course”, Dawlish snaps, turning his frown on Sirius instead. ”A young man is _dead_ , a Bulgarian citizen and an international Quidditch star no less, has died while on British soil, so it’s imperative that we follow procedure, or we’ll have an international scandal on our hands—!”

 

”Oh, don’t bore me with politics!” Sirius snaps. 

 

”Of course, we understand it must have been an accident”, Dawlish continues. ”It’s the _Triwizard Tournament_ , after all —”

 

”It wasn’t an _accident!_ ” Harry blurts out incredulously.

 

The Aurors turn back to face him, frowning seriously. 

 

”Mr Potter… please start from the beginning…” Dawlish murmurs. 

 

”And be aware”, the other Auror adds. ”That _should_ this matter go to trial, the jury is more likely to be understanding if the official statement shows your cooperation from the start…”

 

”My cooperation?” Harry repeats in confusion. ”I _am_ cooperating! Why wouldn’t I be—?”

 

”What my colleague means”, Dawlish says patiently. ”Is that a jury is likely to vote in favour of acquitting a minor that accidentally caused the death of another champion whilst competing in the Triwizard Tournament, if that minor has been honest about the accident from the start—”

 

”What? _I_ didn’t kill him!” Harry exclaims. ”It was _Voldemort_ —!”

 

The Aurors flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name and Harry feels his own heart skip a beat. When did he start using the Dark Lord’s name so casually? He never used to… he supposes, after years of almost nightly nightmares of a faceless monster, that when that monster finally has a face and Harry has stood more or less straight-backed in front of it and even survived a duel with the figure — no, _man_ — saying his name really isn’t that big of a deal anymore… 

 

Remus returns with the tea pot and four more cups that he places on the coffee table carefully, while looking between the others in the room. 

 

”Voldemort killed Krum and he almost killed me too”, Harry repeats stubbornly, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction to see the two Aurors flinch again. ”That’s my ’official statement’…”

 

The older Auror huffs out an annoyed sigh and looks over at Sirius for support, but the other man just sneers back.

 

”Did you manage to retrieve Viktor Krum’s wand?” Remus asks casually, puncturing the sudden tension in the room.

 

”It was found on the body, yes”, Dawlish says, squinting suspiciously at the other man. ”Why do you ask?”

 

”Did you examine the wand?” Remus insists. 

 

”Of course—”

 

”And did you discover the use of any Unforgivables?”

 

”You know we can’t divulge details of the investigation…”

 

”Well”, Remus says pleasantly, handing the Aurors a cup of tea each. ”If you didn’t, you’ll know that at least one more person must have been present at the time of the… _incident,_ since Harry was subjected to _two_ Unforgivable curses that night, and if they weren’t conjured with Krum’s wand nor Harry’s own — you’re welcome to check his wand right now — they must have come from a third one, as I’m sure you’ll agree?”

 

”Er… t-two un… unforgivables?” Dawlish repeats hesitantly, eyes flitting between Remus and Harry uncomfortably. ”That’s… that’s what Harry, erm, says happened, is it…?”

 

”That’s what Madam Pomfrey says happened after she performed a full diagnostics spell on him”, Remus says swiftly, resuming his seat next to Sirius on the sofa and taking a small sip of tea from his cup before carefully placing it back on its saucer. ”She made a note of the residual magic of both the Imperius and the Cruciatus in Harry when he returned to Hogwarts, as I’m sure she’ll attest once you get _her_ official statement…”

 

”Right, well…” Dawlish mutters, shifting his weight nervously and glaring a little half-heartedly at the cup of tea in his hand. ”We’ll… we’ll of course look into that…”

 

”I’m sure you will”, Remus says lightly, then turns to Harry. ”Harry, give them your wand…”

 

Dawlish hands his colleague his tea cup awkwardly and then takes the wand from Harry when he offers it to him, then casts a quick spell on it with his own before handing it back with a curt nod. 

 

”Well if there’s nothing else…” he mutters. ”We’ll be… be going… yes…”

 

”I’ll walk with you”, Dumbledore says. ”I’m heading back to Hogwarts anyway…”

 

”Er…”

 

Dawlish and Williamson exchange an uncertain look. 

 

”Hogwarts?” Dawlish repeats. 

 

”Certainly. I think you’ll find Poppy still at the castle”, Dumbledore says. ”Remus, Sirius… Harry… I hope I’ll see you again soon. Thank you for the tea… Gentlemen, shall we?” he adds, holding out his arm to indicate the two Aurors walk ahead of him out of the lounge, the many embroidered stars on his robe sleeve glittering in the early morning sunlight.

 

Harry hides a smile behind his hand as the two Aurors spring into action again, nodding hurriedly to Sirius and Remus, before filing out of the room. The younger of the two men catches himself still holding the two teacups and doubles back and puts them down on the coffee table, looking flustered and flushing a bright red. 

 

Harry’s amusement is short-lived however, because as soon as they hear the front door shut, both his dads faces fall and they exchange a grim look. 

 

”What’s wrong?” he asks. ”You think I’ll be put on trial after all?”

 

”No, no, Harry”, Sirius says immediately. ”Don’t worry about that… there’s enough evidence to clear you.”

 

”So… what’s—?”

 

Both his dads sigh heavily, exchanging another quick look and Remus gives Sirius a small nod. 

 

”The Ministry’s official stand is that Barty Crouch Jr. was a deranged Death Eater who believed he was following You-Know-Who’s orders, but that he was acting of his own accord this whole time”, Sirius tells Harry calmly. 

 

”What?” Harry gasps. ”But that’s mad—!”

 

”Yes”, Remus agrees. ”But that’s exactly what fear does, Harry, it twists our minds… and that’s what happening right now. The Minister is scared, so scared of the prospect of You-Know-Who’s return, as are most of the people working at the Ministry, that they rather believe anything else…”

 

”So what do we do…?”

 

Remus smiles fondly at him and when Harry glances over at his dad he can detect a flare of pride in his eyes as he smirks at him as well, giving him a subtle wink. 

 

” _You_ aren’t doing anything, Harry”, Remus says kindly. ”But your dad and I will be helping Dumbledore reinstitute the Order of the Phoenix…”

 

”Order of the Phoenix, what’s that?” Harry asks curiously, ignoring the twinge at being excluded from everything, like some little kid.

 

”It’s a secret society that Dumbledore started back in 1970 when You-Know-Who first rose to power, an underground Resistance basically… Your dad and I joined as soon as we’d graduated, as did your p- erm, James and Lily… and Wormtail too…”

 

”Who else is in the Order? That I know?” 

 

”Well, there’s the Weasleys”, Remus says thoughtfully. ”And Severus, of course…”

 

”Professor Snape is in the Order?” Harry says, but even as he says it, his mind flashes back to Dumbledore’s memory that he’d witnessed in the Pensieve. ”He was a spy, wasn’t he? Last time?”

 

Surprise flickers past his dads faces, but Remus nods. 

 

”Is he going to spy this time, too? Isn’t that dangerous—?”

 

”It might not come to that…” Remus reassures him. 

 

Harry nods, falling silent for a moment as he considers everything his dads have told him. It sounds so serious, all of it, with an underground Resistance movement, and spies… 

 

Of course he’s always been aware of the war, his own existence directly tied to it as it is to such an extent that all the History books mention him by name, and his dads have always been honest with him about what happened to Lily and James, and how he came to be their son… but they’ve always glossed over the details of the war itself — not surprisingly, he figures, considering he’s been plagued by nightmares for as long as he can remember even without the gory details — and for some reason the war has always been more of a fairytale than anything else, in Harry’s mind… but now… now it feels _real_ … 

 

 _Because it_ is _real now, it’s all happening again,_ he thinks, his stomach flipping over.

 

”Can I join?” he asks, not really expecting anything other than a sounding _no_. 

 

”Absolutely not”, Remus says immediately.

 

”What about after I graduate, like you guys—?”

 

”No—”

 

”Hopefully, it won’t come to that”, Sirius cuts in. ”If we can get Fudge to see sense, and the Ministry gets their act together, there will be no need for a secret Resistance this time around…”

 

 

*

 

Five weeks into summer, Harry has developed something of a routine to help him cope with his nightmares… He’ll get ready for bed around ten or so in the evening, say goodnight to his dads then retreat to his room and crawl into bed and wait for his daddy to poke his head through the door to check and see if he’s asleep, and as soon as he’s sure both his dads have gone to bed, he’ll get out of bed again and sneak out the window… he’ll then spends the whole night flying over Hogsmeade until the sun rises, at which point he’ll head back home and sneak back into his room, before heading out into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. 

 

If it’s a weekend, his dads might even sleep in and he can sneak a couple of cups into his room and save for later… but usually, at least one of them will hear the kettle and join him in the kitchen before the coffee is done, and they’ll make him some toast and ask him how he’s slept… two out of three mornings he’ll lie and tell them he’s slept fine; those are the mornings when he hasn’t slept at all, and he can almost fool himself into thinking it’s not _exactly_ a lie, since what they really mean is _Have you had any nightmares?_ and it’s true that he _hasn’t_ , just as it’s true that he _feels_ fine. 

 

But every third morning, he’ll take a nap before heading out into the kitchen to make coffee, and every time he does the graveyard is waiting for him as soon as he closes his eyes… those are the mornings when he tells his dads the truth, that he _hasn’t slept that great_ , mainly because there wouldn’t be any point in lying to them, when the truth is so obvious on him, anyway… in everything from the dark smudges of shadow under his bloodshot eyes to the exhausted slump of his shoulders as he sinks into his seat at the kitchen table. 

 

Sirius will give him a sympathetic half-smile then, while Remus hugs him tightly from behind and burrows his face into the top of Harry’s head and mutters nonsense into his hair. 

 

”At least it’s getting better”, Sirius will say. ”It’s not every night anymore…”

 

Harry will look down at his coffee to avoid meeting his dad’s eyes then, always feeling a twinge of guilt for keeping the truth from the both of them… but it can’t be helped, he tells himself. He can’t bring himself to face the graveyard every night, he just can’t — but what good would it do to worry his dads more than absolutely necessary? — _He’s fine_ … a little tired, sure… but ultimately _fine_. 

 

The worst part isn’t the exhaustion though, it’s the hallucinations… and Harry knows they’re just figments of his sleep-deprivation, but that doesn’t make them any less scary when they happen. 

 

He’ll be on his broom, watching the sun rise behind Hogwarts or strolling down the deserted high street, window-shopping idly, when he’ll suddenly catch a movement in the corner of his eye, just like that first morning at the beginning of the summer… or he’ll see someone standing in the shadow of a building, watching him… and every time it happens, even though he knows by now that it’s all in his head, while it’s happening it feels as real as anything, _more_ real even than most other things; and his heart will start to pound impossibly hard, his chest will grow tight and he’ll struggle to breathe, to the point where he almost passes out. 

 

One time he actually did… he was fumbling for his wand one minute, then crumpling to the ground and clutching his chest, sure he was having a heart attack… and the next thing he knew, he was on his back in the middle of the street, squinting up at the morning sun. It was after that that he started taking a nap every third morning, just to be safe. 

 

It’s not a perfect system, but it works… 

 

Or at least Harry had thought it did. 

 

Until this Thursday morning of week five, when he clambers through his bedroom window only to find Remus sitting on his bed, waiting for him… Harry hangs his head to avoid his daddy’s eyes and the worry he sees there, stomach coiling uncomfortably.

 

”Good morning…” Remus murmurs, his voice carefully neutral and Harry’s stomach flips.

 

”Morning”, he mumbles quietly, fingering the handle of his Nimbus nervously, unable to look up. ”I couldn’t sleep, so I… I just went for a fly…”

 

”Come on, let’s go make some breakfast”, Remus says, his voice still perfectly neutral, but Harry flinches anyway.

 

He watches through his lashes as his daddy rises to his feet and walks out of the room. Sighing heavily, he leans the broom against the wall next to the open window and follows him out into the kitchen. Sinking into his seat at the table, Harry watches nervously as Remus moves around with familiar movements, making coffee and toast as a tense silence spreads out between them. 

 

It’s not until he’s served the breakfast and taken the seat opposite Harry that Remus looks up and meets his eyes again. Harry feels another twinge in his chest and it takes all of his self-control to not look down… the worry in his daddy’s eyes is mixed with disappointment now, and Harry feels awful… angry Remus, as scary as he is, would be so much easier to deal with… 

 

”I didn’t want to worry you”, Harry mumbles, picking at the crust of his cooling toast. ”I just couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a fly… thought if I tired myself out, I’d be able to sleep after…”

 

Remus nods calmly, but his eyes bores into Harry and it feels like he can read his every thought… unable to maintain the eye-lock anymore, Harry looks down at his toast finally. 

 

”I think that sounds like a reasonable idea…” Remus says in a level tone of voice. ”Did it work?”

 

”What?” Harry mumbles, glancing up at him briefly again. 

 

”Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

 

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head. 

 

”I see…”

 

”Sorry”, Harry mumbles. ”Didn’t mean to worry you…”

 

”I appreciate that, Harry… but how do you think I felt when I walked into your room and found your bed empty? And how do you think I would feel if something would have happened to you?”

 

”Sorry…” Harry mumbles again, voice scratchy suddenly and he swallows thickly past the small lump swelling in his throat. 

 

”How many times?”

 

”What—?”

 

” _How many times have you snuck out in the middle of the night?_ ” Remus says, his voice growing a little harder with suppressed anger. 

 

”I haven’t, I—” Harry begins, but cuts himself off abruptly when Remus pushes to his feet and wheels around to brace himself against the counter. ”Daddy…?”

 

”Harry…” Remus says, voice strangled with suppressed emotion. ” _Don’t_ lie to me… please…”

 

”I’m… I’m so—”

 

Remus wheels back around and pins him with his flashing eyes. Harry flinches and looks down again miserably… _he knows…_  

 

”Last night was the third night this week that I went to check on you and you weren’t in your bed”, Remus says with forced calm. ”I want you to tell me the truth, Harry… how many nights have you snuck out?”

 

Feeling his eyes sting, Harry blinks miserably and hangs his head even heavier, until the back of his neck begins to ache from the strain. 

 

”Harry…”

 

”All summer”, Harry mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper, but he can tell his daddy has heard him because the silence that follows feels even heavier than before. 

 

He hears the heavy sigh that escapes his daddy, but can’t bring himself to look up. A hot tear spills down the side of his face and he quickly bats it away.

 

”Is it the nightmares?” Remus asks finally, his voice warm and gentle again, the way it should be and Harry nods. ”Okay…”

 

Remus lowers himself into his seat and sighs again. 

 

”Okay… we’ll have to find a way to deal with them, then…”

 

Harry’s eyes flit up to his daddy’s face in surprise, hardly daring to hope. 

 

”Really?” he says in a small voice. 

 

”You can’t go on like this, Harry”, Remus replies sternly. ”It’s extremely dangerous to deprive yourself of sleep, especially on a regular basis like you’ve been doing — _it stops now,_ is that clear?”

 

”Yeah, a-alright…” 

 

”We’ll have to get you some Dreamless Sleep. But I want to talk to a professional first, see if we can get some help to devise a schedule… I don’t want you to get immune or addicted…”

 

”Hey…” Sirius sleep-gravelly voice pipes up behind Harry suddenly and he turns around to see the man leaning against the doorframe, hair all over the place and eyes swollen. ”You two are up early… did you have another nightmare, Harry?”

 

Harry turns back to Remus, who gives him an expectant look. Harry sighs, feeling his earlier relief and excitement deflate again.

 

”I didn’t sleep…”

 

”Again…” Sirius mutters, moving into the kitchen and grabbing a coffee cup from the drying rack next to the sink. ”Do we have a plan?”

 

He drops into his usual seat at the table and reaches for the coffee. Harry looks between him and Remus in surprise. 

 

”Yes”, Remus says simply, giving Harry a small smile. ”No more sneaking out of the house for a start, right Harry?”

 

Harry nods hurriedly. 

 

”And I am going to talk to Severus about setting up schedule for Harry to have Dreamless Sleep”, Remus continues. 

 

Sirius pulls a face, but doesn’t protest. Harry realises they must have discussed this already, before confronting him about it. 

 

”I’ll bring it up after the meeting today, if he makes it…”

 

”Still don’t see why it’s got to be him”, Sirius mutters. ”He’s not a mediwizard…”

 

”No, but he’s one of the best Potions Masters in Britain”, Remus says slowly, frowning when Sirius snorts. ”And he’s Harry’s Head of House, which means he’ll be able to make sure Harry continues following the schedule while at Hogwarts…”

 

Sirius _hmphs_ noncommittally at that, but his defiant frown smoothes out slightly and he proceeds to sip his coffee silently afterwards. 

 

”You’re going to another Order meeting today?” Harry asks carefully. 

 

In the past three weeks, the Order of the Phoenix has begun to operate seriously, having meetings at least once and sometimes twice a week, but Harry’s dads have been very vague about what exactly the meetings have been about and what the Order is actually doing. 

 

All he knows is that Sirius has allowed them the use of his childhood home in central London as Headquarters and no matter how much Harry has nagged him about it, he refuses to let Harry come along to any of the meetings, saying he doesn’t want Harry to see the place where he grew up or what kind of people his parents were or have to come face to face with his mother, whatever he means by that… both of Sirius parents are dead, after all, so Harry doesn’t understand in what way he’d be forced to face them if he went to the house now… 

 

The mail arrives in a flurry of movement outside the window and Harry’s stomach flutters in excitement when he sees the third owl, next to the usual two with the _Daily Prophet_ and the day’s batch of hate letters, and he scrambles to his feet in a hurry to open the window and let the birds inside. 

 

He eagerly unties the rather thick roll of parchment from the third owl’s leg and feels his stomach flutter again as the familiar handwriting confirms his suspicion… then to his surprise, the regular post owl with the handful of letters that he’d assumed would addressed to his parents, avoids Remus outstretched hand and plops down on Harry’s other arm instead and proceeds to prod him in the chest with the small bunch of letters clamped in its beak. 

 

Bemused, Harry takes the letters from the owl and watches as it takes flight again and soars back out of the window. 

 

”Harry, give them to me…” Remus says calmly and holds out his hand. 

 

”What? Why?” he asks. ”What are they?”

 

”Just more rubbish, probably…” Remus says, making an insistent claw gesture with his hand. 

 

Harry looks between the letters and the roll of parchment from Draco and decides he’s more eager to read Draco’s message than find out what’s in the letters, so he hands them over to his daddy without a fuss. 

 

”Is that from Draco?” Remus asks lightly, clearly intending to distract Harry from the fact that he hides the other letters at the bottom of the small pile of old Prophets at the end of the counter. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says, unrolling the parchment eagerly and glancing at the top-right corner where the blonde has dated his message. ”It’s four days old, they must be in France still…”

 

Draco had gone to spend the summer with his mother in France, as usual. But unlike previous summers, when they’d usually spend the first four weeks at the manor, they’d gone the very same day as Draco left Hogwarts and it seems like they’re not about to return to Britain any time soon… Harry scans the message quickly, for any sign of bad news and when he finds none, he rolls up the parchment again and tucks it away in his pyjama bottoms’ pocket to read more carefully later. 

 

”Can I have some more coffee, please?” he asks carefully. 

 

”Sure…” Remus murmurs, grabbing the cafetiere as he gets to his feet and sets about making some more. 

 

”Are you going to open the letters?” Harry asks after a moment. ”Might be important…”

 

”They’re not”, Remus mutters. 

 

”How do you know?”

 

”Harry, leave it…” Sirius mumbles tiredly. 

 

”They’re addressed to me though, aren’t they?” Harry insists. 

 

”Yes, but you don’t want to read them”, Remus says firmly. 

 

”How do you know—?”

 

Sirius huffs and rubs his hands over his face, ”Let him have them, if he wants…”

 

”Have there been others—?” Harry asks, looking between his dads warily. 

 

”Fine”, Remus mutters and snatches the small bunch of letters from beneath the old papers and tosses them onto the table. ”Here…”

 

Harry stares at the letters, feeling a sinking sensation in his belly. He doesn’t want to read them, not really. He just wants to know what’s going on and there’s clearly something his dads aren’t telling him… 

 

”You might as well read the Prophets as well”, Sirius says heavily. 

 

”I have been…” Harry says, frowning in confusion. 

 

”Have you?” Sirius says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

”Well… the headlines, anyway”, Harry mumbles. ”But if there would be anything about the Death Eaters, it would be front page news, wouldn’t it—?”

 

Sirius snorts humourlessly and shakes his head. 

 

”The _Prophet_ isn’t reporting on the Death Eater’s or V-Voldemort’s return, Harry…” Remus says quietly, resuming his seat at the table and refilling Harry’s coffee cup. ”They’re following the Ministry’s directives, and you know the Ministry’s stand on this matter is…”

 

”Yeah…” Harry mutters bitterly. ”So what d’you mean about reading the Prophet, then?”

 

”They’re not just omitting news concerning Death Eater activities”, Remus says darkly. ”All summer they’ve gone to great lengths to undermine Dumbledore and… well, you Harry…”

 

”Me? How do you mean?”

 

”Just small things. Small, snide comments slipped into articles about other things…”

 

”Like what?”

 

”Like this one…” mutters Sirius, who’s been flicking through today’s edition of the _Prophet_ while Harry and Remus have been talking, and he smoothes it out on top of the table, turning it so that Harry can read the article. 

 

”… _’Gudgeon thwarted by bumblebee’_?” Harry reads the headline out loud and shakes his head in confusion. ”What’s that got to do with—?”

 

”Further down…” Sirius says, pointing to a sentence in the last paragraph of the article. 

 

> Ragmar Dorkins, manager and spokesperson for Chudley Cannons, claims that Gudgeon is healing fast in a closed ward of St. Mungos and is expected to resume his position as Seeker on the team in time for next month’s match against the Appleby Arrows… We can only hope that the fall off his broom hasn’t left Galvin Gudgeon with any permanent damage, such as any lasting scars, or we’ll be expected to worship him next…
> 
>  

”…What”, Harry mumbles, staring at the words but not really comprehending them. ”I don’t… I don’t understand… what are they trying to say? I don’t expect to be _worshipped_ —!”

 

”Of course not, cub…” Remus says heavily. ”But that’s the point. They’ve turned you into a… a long-standing joke, essentially…”

 

”But _why?_ ” Harry exclaims. 

 

”Because by weaving in these little digs at you and Dumbledore in their articles, they’ve made you and — more importantly — your claims about V-Voldemort returning, into… well, a joke, as well…”

 

”So what, now everyone thinks I’m… I’m… some attention-seeking… _joke?_ ” Harry splutters. 

 

”They’ll learn the truth soon enough”, Sirius mutters, but it hardly makes Harry feel any better. 

 

As if sensing Harry’s unease — or maybe it’s right there in his face, plain for anyone to read, but whatever the reason — Remus reaches out and smoothers Harry’s clenched fist with his own, warm hand. It’s a small comfort, but enough to make Harry relax a little… 

 

”Why don’t you go lie down for a bit, Harry?” Remus suggests kindly. ”Read Draco’s letter?”

 

”Yeah, all right…” Harry murmurs and pushes to his feet. 

 

As he goes to slide his bedroom door shut, he can hear his dads muffled voices begin to talk softly out in the kitchen again, but he can’t make out the words. He shuts the door with a click and walks over to his desk. He eyes his bed longingly, feeling his exhaustion claw at him, but he decides not to risk it and sinks down in his desk chair instead. His daddy will purchase some Dreamless Sleep potion for him later and then he’ll finally get some proper rest; he can wait until then…

 

He turns to face his desk and carefully unrolls the piece of parchment and smoothes it out on top of the desktop, smiling at the slightly swirly handwriting that he’s come to know so well by now… as per his habit, Draco starts his letter with a sweet greeting — he has taken to calling Harry all sorts of sickly sweet pet names throughout the summer (such as _Petal_ and _Sugar cube_ ), each one sillier than the last — and this one is definitely the silliest yet, Harry thinks fondly as he reads the words: _”Dearest Dew Drop”_

 

He snorts in amusement and shakes his head. 

 

 _”The temperature here in Quiberon continues to climb and at the time of writing it has reached an unbearable 32 degrees…”_ Draco continues and if Harry closes his eyes he can just picture his haughty look on the other boy’s face as he complains about it in his driest voice. _”If it wasn’t for the sea breeze I’m sure I would have perished from heatstroke ages ago… of course, the downside to the harsh wind is that it dries out my skin terribly — you won’t_ believe _how many bottles of moisturising creme I’ve gone through already (now, get your mind out of the gutter!)”_

 

Harry chuckles, even as a light blush blooms in his cheeks at the subtle but unmistakable reference… 

 

The rest of the letter continues in much the same fashion, offering him a detailed and effortlessly witty recount of the Malfoys’ uneventful last four days, without divulging any real information, and Harry can’t help but to wonder if Draco is keeping his letters light-hearted in case they get intercepted, or if it’s simply for Harry’s benefit… to counter-act everything else that is going on… _not that it really matters_ , Harry thinks. Whether it’s intentional or not, it does make him feel better. 

 

_”Mother tells me that we’re travelling to a Medieval village called Pomas in the next few days, where apparently there is a specialist store for magical artefacts, that she would like to visit, disguised as a rather charming seashell museum for the local muggles, I’m told… (honestly!) And after that we’ll move on to the Pyrenees, before we head back home… what she’s hoping to accomplish with that detour, I dread to think… but if she wants me to transfer to Beauxbatons she has another thing coming!…”_

 

Harry frowns, feeling his heart pinch at the mere mention of Draco transferring schools. _Surely they wouldn’t do that?_ he thinks worriedly. 

 

He knows Lucius always wanted Draco to attend Durmstrang, but that Narcissa had put her foot down and insisted he attend Hogwarts instead, because she wanted him closer to home… but what if the witch has now changed her mind? What if she plans to make the move to France permanent, to get Draco out of harm’s way now that Voldemort is returned?

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks firmly. _France isn’t any safer than Britain, so that doesn’t make any sense. Draco isn’t going anywhere…_

 

 _”Anyway, she’s calling me now, so I’d better round this up; there is quaint little café down by the docks that she wants to try — I’ve tried telling her it’s a muggle establishment, but she refuses to listen, so this should be interesting!”_ Draco continues to write. _”I’m thinking about you (like, constantly — it’s a problem!) and I miss you awfully. I’m counting down the days until the start of school, when I get to see (and other things with) you again!_

 

_Love you,_

_D”_

 

All of Harry’s insides seem to squirming and fluttering, as he stares at the last two words… he still daydreams, almost obsessively, about that moment in Hogsmeade Station when Draco spoke the words for the first and, so far, only time… this is the first time he has put the words into writing… 

 

Heart hammering excitedly in his chest, Harry starts digging through the mess in his desk drawers until he finds a blank piece of parchment and then fumbles with a quill, eager to start his reply so that he can tell the blonde that he loves him too… but as soon as he puts the quill to the paper, he suddenly doesn’t know what to write… _I can’t start with_ I love you, _can I?_ he thinks uncertainly. 

 

A soft knock on his door interrupts him and he twists around in his chair to see Remus stick his his head through the open door. 

 

”Hey…” he murmurs gently. ”Did you manage to get any sleep?”

 

Harry considers telling him he has, but then decides he’s done enough lying for one summer and shakes his head with a pinched smile instead. Remus doesn’t look the least bit surprised and mirrors the smile sympathetically. 

 

”How is Draco?” he asks instead. 

 

Harry feels his cheeks heat up slightly, his smile widening automatically. 

 

”Good?” Remus guesses, his mouth twitching with amusement. 

 

”Yeah… or, well… the same, I guess…”

 

Remus nods. 

 

”Your dad and I are heading to London for the Order meeting now, we won’t stay for lunch, but I don’t know how long the meeting will take, so if you get hungry before we—”

 

”Can’t I come?” Harry asks hopefully. 

 

”You know your dad doesn’t want—”

 

Harry huffs and slouches down in his chair, glaring petulantly at the ink blot on top of the parchment in front of him. He can hear Remus sigh behind him and soon feels the man’s big hands knead his shoulders gently, before planting a kiss on the top of his head. 

 

”You would be bored out of your mind within minutes…”

 

”So? I’m bored here, all alone…” Harry grouses, even though it’s not strictly true and he feels kind of bad for making his daddy feel guilty. 

 

”We won’t be long, I promise…” 

 

”Whatever…” Harry mutters, shrugging the man’s hands off. 

 

”If you do get hungry—”

 

” _Whatever!_ ” Harry snaps again. ”Just go!”

 

He immediately regrets snapping at his daddy, as soon as he hears his bedroom door click shut behind him. But his pride prevents him from running after the man to apologise. Instead dips his quill in the ink well again and starts writing: ”My sweetest Pink Coconut Icicle…”

 

Pausing with his quill perched on the next line, Harry reads back what he’s just written and snorts a little to himself… _if Draco interprets that as a reference to his sun tan, he’ll kill me…_

 

Harry finishes his letter — a lot shorter than Draco’s had been, but Harry doesn’t possess Draco’s eloquence or ability to write inches upon inches about absolutely nothing, either — and by the time he’s rolled it up and tied it to Hedwig’s leg, his stomach has started growling. 

 

”Try and get this to Draco as quickly as possible”, Harry tells Hedwig. ”Then you can enjoy some french mice, okay?”

 

She hoots lightly and nips at his finger playfully. 

 

”All right, off you go…” Harry says and opens the window for her. 

 

After she’s fluttered off in the distance, Harry walks out into the kitchen and discovers a plate of food under a Stasis Charm, waiting for him on the table and he feels another twinge of guilt about his behaviour earlier. Sinking into his seat, he decides to make it up to his daddy after he’s eaten… _I’ll clean my room_ and _do the laundry,_ he thinks. _That will keep me busy until they get home as well._

 

But by the time Harry has finished hanging the damp clothes to dry on the washing line outside, there still wasn’t any sign of either of his dads… worry flares up in Harry’s chest as he checks his watch and realises it’s already three o’clock, but he pushes it down firmly and tells himself it’s the first Order meeting in over a week, so they obviously must have a lot to go over, that’s all… 

 

Not wanting to sit around and wait, Harry decides to go for a walk to keep himself busy. He would really love to go for another fly, but being as weak as he is from exhaustion right now, he knows it would be extremely reckless… 

 

As the air outside is even balmier than inside the cottage, Harry takes off his thin jumper and tosses it through his open bedroom window and walks out of the gate in just his t-shirt and Gladrags short trousers, relishing the sensation of the warm summer breeze across his naked skin as he walks, and picks up the pace until he’s almost jogging down the main street. 

 

Spangles, the neighbour’s cat, watches him with a decidedly unimpressed look from her rolled-up position below the steps to Spintwitches Sporting Needs, obviously not seeing the point of moving at all unless you’re chasing a mouse… Smirking, Harry picks up his pace further and runs all the way to Zonko’s at the far end of town, before turning around and running all the way back again. 

 

He finally stops next to the old oak tree, his new favourite spot in the town, and sinks down in the grass to catch his breath. 

 

After a moment, as his heartbeat has slowed down and he begins to cool down again, the air seems to cool as well. In fact, one particularly cold breeze hits him and he shivers violently, hugging himself. Blinking his eyes open again, he looks around warily… the sun seems to have been smothered by an unusually thick blanket of clouds; if Harry’s watch wasn’t showing a quarter past four in the afternoon, he would have sworn the it had set already… sitting up, Harry hugs himself against the cold again and looks around, feeling an uncomfortable weight push on his chest… _something is wrong…_

 

Clambering to his feet, Harry walks out from behind the oak tree and squints down the street, but he can barely make anything out, it’s that dark… the air is freezing cold now, Harry rubs his bare arms swiftly to get the blood circulating, feeling the goose bumps on his skin… _what is going on?_

 

As though the sun has been extinguished like a torch, all of Hogsmeade has been bathed in darkness… but it’s not like any darkness Harry has ever experienced before, not like the night when he’s out flying to escape sleep, because at least then there’s the moon and stars to break up the dark, but not now… now there is nothing, just a pitch black fog that covers everything and Harry imagines he can _feel_ it inside his lungs when he breathes in, like the air itself has turned to darkness… ice cold darkness… 

 

”Daddy…” he whispers, voice trembling with an instinctive fear that doesn’t even make sense to him. 

 

And then he hears it… he hears it before he sees it… a low wheezing, like someone breathing… heart jumping into his throat, Harry wheels around in panic and stares unseeingly into the darkness… the noise draws closer and closer to him… it’s definitely someone — or something — moving quietly closer, its rattling breaths the only thing giving them away… 

 

Then he sees it; a hooded figure, darker than the darkness around it, emerging from the shadows in front of Harry. 

 

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Harry fumbles for his wand, but his fingers are numb with cold now and he drops it to the ground. 

 

It’s not real, he tells himself. It’s just in your head —

 

The figure is only metres away from him now, towering over him and with another rattling breath, it seems to suck the very air out of Harry’s lungs and before he knows what’s happened, his knees have buckled under him and he’s crumpled on the ground, with his own breath caught in his chest… the cold has seeped into his bones now, into his very core… he’s drowning in it… gasping on lungfuls of stinging, ice cold air… it seems to be rushing in his ears as well, it’s all he can hear…

 

 _No_ , he thinks faintly. There’s something else too, something underneath the creature’s breath and the rushing of wind in his ears… someone screaming… a woman…

 

_Please, not Harry, please!_

 

Harry’s heart sinks like a stone; he knows those screams, knows exactly who they belong to… He feels himself falling — no, drowning — 

 

_Not Harry! PLEASE, NO!_

 

Then, just before the darkness claims him, a faint light breaks through the darkness in the distance, drawing steadily closer to him… it almost looks like an animal running towards him… _like an animal made of light_ …

 


	33. Screams from the past & whispers from the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first thing Harry becomes aware of is something cool and damp pressed to his forehead and a muffled voice speaking to him, but he can’t quite make out the words… the next thing he becomes aware of is something solid but soft pressed against him, all along his backside — but no, that’s not quite right, he thinks faintly — no, he’s lying on his back, on top of the solid soft thing… _a bed,_ his mind supplies belatedly and he feels slightly foolish for not realising it immediately… so he’s lying on a bed — his own bed, in fact, he recognises the smell of the bedsheets now…

 

 _”… you’re okay, cub…”_ the voice says softly and he recognises it as his daddy’s now.

 

Blinking his eyes open, Harry squints up at Remus and catches the look of relief that flickers into the man’s face, before he gives Harry one of his warmest smiles. He then begins to sit back and Harry barely resists the temptation to reach out and hold onto him, scared of being left alone suddenly… but Remus doesn’t leave him, he just leans back and reaches for something behind him — a slab of chocolate, as it turns out — and he breaks off a large piece of it that he holds out to Harry. 

 

”Eat this, pup… you’ll feel much better…”

 

Harry wraps his tingly fingers around the sticky piece of chocolate, struggling to grip it as his hands are still numb… _not from cold anymore, though_ , he thinks. _Can’t be. Room is hot._ _Must be weakness_ , o _r maybe bad blood circulation_ … 

 

He bites off a small piece of chocolate and quickly swallows it down. The effect is instantaneous. What can only be described as warmth spreads throughout his body and he immediately regains feeling in his hands and feet. And he hadn’t even realised he’d been nauseous, until now when the sensation subsides and his stomach settles again. 

 

Remus smiles down at him, petting his damp hair and readjusting what Harry thinks must be a compress on his forehead.

 

”What happened…?” he says shakily. 

 

A dark look flickers past his daddy’s eyes, but he quickly blinks it away again.

 

”What do you remember?” he asks gently. 

 

”I was out walking and… something weird happened”, Harry mumbles. ”The sky, it went dark… and it got cold…”

 

He shivers involuntarily at the memory and reaches out to grab his daddy’s other hand. 

 

”I felt really weird… like… like empty and sad and…” he trails off and just shakes his head.

 

”I know”, Remus murmurs soothingly. ”It’s over now.”

 

”What was it…? Was it… _him_ …?”

 

”No, no…” Remus assures him, then seems to hesitate for a second before he continues. ”No, it was a Dementor. Or two, apparently…”

 

”Dementors?” Harry gasps. ”Here? In _Hogsmeade_ —?”

 

Remus frowns uncomfortably and looks away. 

 

”Aberforth, the old man who runs the Hog’s Head Inn, said he saw two of them attacking you behind his pub. He… he chased them away and then brought you home”, Remus says thickly, unconsciously tightening his grip on Harry’s hand. 

 

”There was a creature”, Harry mumbles, thinking back to the moment just before he lost consciousness. ”Like an animal… except it was like it was made of light…”

 

Remus nods, ”A Patronus Charm… Aberforth conjured it, that’s how he chased the Dementors away…”

 

”How does that work, will you teach it to me?” Harry asks hopefully.

 

”That might be a good idea”, Remus nods. ”But it’s very advanced magic, Harry. Way beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels… essentially, you need to focus on a memory, a happy one, the happiest you’ve ever been… and you need to think really hard on that particular memory, as you say the incantation… like this—”

 

Remus lets go of Harry’s hand and grabs his wand, then closing his eyes briefly he mutters, ” _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

 

Suddenly a bright, silvery swift shoots out of the tip of the man’s wand and soars towards the ceiling. Harry watches in wonder as it flits between the walls, before finally fading away again.

 

”Each person’s Patronus is different”, Remus continues in his teaching voice, as he pockets his wand again. ”It will assume the shape of an animal that either represents the conjurer’s personality or essence, or since the Charm itself is built on the recollection of a single talisman memory, its’ form can also represent that particular memory or the essence of a person in the memory, or simply the person that is closest to the conjurer’s heart, such as a lover or a family member…”

 

”Will it change form if you think of a different memory?” Harry asks curiously, biting off another piece of chocolate and chewing carefully. 

 

”That’s a very good question, Harry”, Remus says, looking so proud that it makes Harry blush. ”A person’s Patronus can sometimes change form, but it’s very rare and it won’t happened just because you focus on a different memory. Usually it changes if a person has experienced a great shock or an emotional upheaval…”

 

”Has yours ever changed?” 

 

”Yes, as a matter of fact. Once… it used to be a wolf…” Remus says with a wry smile.  

 

”What made it change?” Harry asks curiously.

 

”You did…”

 

Harry blinks. Remus eyes turn misty and almost a little sad, but his smile never wavers and he continues to comb his fingers through Harry’s damp hair in his usual soothing manner… Harry wonders whom it soothes the most, though — him or Remus himself…

 

”At the end of your first year at Hogwarts”, Remus adds and Harry’s heart does a double tap, as his mind flashes back to the moment he woke up in the Hospital Wing, after his run-in with Professor Quirrell and Voldemort. 

 

He remembers his daddy’s swollen, red eyes filling with joyous tears as he gathered Harry into his arms and hugged him tightly… _”Don’t ever do that to me again, Harry…”_

 

And he also remembers talking to Draco and Ron a little while later, the two of them telling him his daddy had been livid when he’d stormed into the Hospital Wing. 

 

 _”To be fair”,_ Ron had said. _”No-one even knew if you were going to wake up again, so he was probably just dead worried, you know?”_

 

”For many years, the memory — or memories — that I would focus on when conjuring my Patronus”, Remus continues. ”Was when I ran around the Dark Forest as a teenager, with my friends in their animagi forms, during the full moon… but in the last few years it’s been the moment you woke up again in the Hospital Wing, that first time, and I knew you’d be all right… you’re what I hold closest to my heart, Harry. You and Sirius.” 

 

”But…” Harry says. ”Why a bird?” 

 

”Well, I can only guess, but… something tells me that you’ll get your wish and your animagus form will be able to fly without a broom.” 

 

”Really?” Harry exclaims happily, pushing himself up on his elbows. ”You think I’ll turn into a bird?”

 

”I assume so…” Remus smiles. 

 

”You think my Patronus will be a bird as well?” 

 

”Maybe. Only one way to find out!” Remus says. ”But first, finish your chocolate…”

 

”Chocolate is your answer to everything”, Harry mumbles good-naturedly, smiling around the piece of chocolate before biting a large chunk out of it and chewing happily. 

 

”A lot of things, but maybe not _everything_ …” Remus mutters. ”Speaking of which… I’ve got you some Dreamless Sleep.”

 

”Really?” Harry says excitedly around the mouthful of chocolate. 

 

”Don’t talk with your mouth full…” Remus groans. ”One might think you were raised by wolves!”

 

”Well…” Harry says slowly, grinning cheekily. 

 

Remus narrows his eyes playfully at him and Harry giggles. 

 

”Feeling better, then?” Sirius says, sticking his head through the door behind Remus.

 

Harry nods, discreetly letting go of Remus hand and pushing himself up to sitting. Remus lets his other hand fall away from Harry’s head and busies himself with removing the compress from Harry’s forehead and folding it neatly. 

 

”Good…” Sirius says, mirroring Harry’s nod. ”Good, that’s… that’s good…”

 

Harry gives him a pinched smile and nods again. 

 

”Well”, Remus says and stands up. ”Dinner should be ready in fifteen minutes, Harry, if you want to freshen up… we’ll go over the Dreamless Sleep schedule after we’ve eaten, okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry nods. 

 

Remus pats him gently on the head, then walks over to the doorway and squeezes past Sirius. The other man backs up slightly against the doorframe to let him pass, then stays like that for a moment, looking between the hallway and Harry’s bedroom floor uncertainly, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets.

 

Harry sits up a little straighter and pretends to be interested in the Roderick Plumpton poster above his bed while he licks some chocolate from his thumb and index finger. 

 

”I’m glad you’re okay…” Sirius mumbles after a moment. 

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the poster and looks over at him. Sirius shifts his weight awkwardly.

 

”Anyway… I’ll let you…” he mumbles and gestures vaguely with one hand. ”Yeah…”

 

Harry huffs in amusement as his dad blushes slightly and then shuffles out of sight. After a moment he can hear his muffled voice out in the kitchen, muttering about Remus being _’so good with him’_ and then Remus’s answering murmur, _”You’re doing fine… come here…”_

 

The familiar pause that follows is soon interrupted by an even more familiar _smack_ and Harry quickly jumps to his feet and hurries across the room to slide his bedroom door shut. He likes to be reminded that his dads are in love, and he does like that they’re affectionate with each other… but he doesn’t necessarily need to _hear_ or _see them_ kissing… it’s enough to know that they are. 

 

 

*

 

The next two nights are the best of Harry’s entire summer. The Dreamless Sleep works just as effectively and immediately as he remembers from the first time he took it, and it’s such a relief to feel sleep tugging on him and knowing it’s okay to give in, because the graveyard isn’t waiting for him, that he could almost cry. 

 

Unfortunately, the schedule that his dads have devised with the help of Professor Snape won’t allow him to take the potion every night, so every third night he has to face his nightmares and the first time, after having had two blissfully Dreamless nights, is almost worse than ever before… he wakes up screaming in panic after only an hour’s sleep and then cries uncontrollably in Remus’ arms for a good twenty minutes, until he manages to calm down. 

 

But the next time, it gets a little easier… and the time after that, easier still. 

 

It’s as if the course of Dreamless Sleep has created a solid foundation of calmness in him that somehow spills into the nights when he doesn’t take any potion… and last night, the oddest thing happened. He’d been dreaming about the graveyard as usual, but before the Death Eaters even showed up the dream shifted and he found himself indoors suddenly… 

 

He doesn’t really remember much about what happened in the dream, because it wasn’t as detailed or vivid as his nightmares usually are, but he’d been walking along a darkened corridor that finished in a dead end and then he’d been left staring at a locked door… and that’s all he could remember when he woke up.

 

As anti-climactic as that might be however, compared to his recurring nightmare it was a massive relief and Harry wouldn’t mind revisiting the corridor every time he has to go to sleep without Dreamless Sleep. 

 

The morning mail brings another sun-bleached roll of parchment from Draco and Harry wolves down the remainder of his breakfast in record time and runs back to his bedroom to read the letter in private… a quick scan of the page, before he reads it more carefully, tells him the blonde has signed off with another _’love you’_ and Harry’s stomach jolts pleasantly. 

 

He’s just started reading through the letter thoroughly when he hears one of his dads’ approaching footsteps through his open bedroom door. 

 

”Harry…” Remus says from the doorway, giving the doorframe a cursory rap with his knuckles. ”Can I talk to you for a minute?”

 

”Uh-huh…” Harry mumbles, without tearing his eyes away from the letter.

 

”Let me rephrase that… can I have your _attention_ for one minute?” Remus mutters, entering the room. 

 

”Sorry”, Harry mumbles. ”One sec…” 

 

Remus sinks down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, but waits patiently for Harry to finish reading. 

 

”Sorry, sorry…” Harry mumbles, quickly rolling the letter up again and turning around in his desk chair to face his daddy. 

 

”Everything alright with Draco?” Remus asks with a gentle smile. 

 

”Yeah. They’ve left the Pyrenees now and are heading back to Britain. Narcissa probably won’t let Draco visit me before school starts anyway, though…”

 

”Well, you’ll see him in a few days regardless… I wanted to talk to you about this afternoon. The Order is meeting and—”

 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry cuts in. 

 

”Well, after the Dementors’ attack, I really don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone again—”

 

”Daddy!” Harry groans. ”I’m not a little kid, I can manage on my own—!”

 

”Harry…”

 

”I’m _fifteen!_ I’ll be _fine_ —!”

 

”Harry—”

 

”I promise I’ll stay indoors, if it will make you feel better! But I don’t want you to miss the meeting and have dad telling everyone it’s because I can’t take care of myself”, Harry insists stubbornly. ”I don’t want the whole Order thinking—”

 

” _Harry!_ ” 

 

Remus stands up swiftly and strides over to Harry and clasps his shoulders, giving them a gentle shake.

 

”I’m just saying…” Harry mutters. 

 

”Why don’t you try listening for a second instead…” Remus says, letting go of his shoulders again. ”I’m trying to ask you if you would like to come with us—?”

 

”What?” Harry gasps. ”Really? I can come to the meeting with you?”

 

”You can’t attend the actual meeting”, Remus corrects firmly. ”But you may accompany us to Grimmauld Place and wait with the Weasley children while the meeting is going on, and then I thought we might stay for dinner…”

 

Harry blinks, hardly daring to believe it. 

 

”Dad said I could come?” he asks. ”He _really_ said I could come?”

 

”He’s not happy about it, but yes. If you want.”

 

” _Yeah!_ ” Harry exclaims. ”Yes, I want to, _of course_ I want to! Can I tell Draco about it?”

 

”Not in writing”, Remus says. ”You’ll have to wait until you see him on Monday…”

 

”Okay!” Harry nods eagerly. ”I’ll wait… when are we leaving? Now?”

 

Remus chuckles and combs his fingers through Harry’s hair fondly. 

 

”Not yet… the meeting isn’t until this afternoon—”

 

”But I want dad to show me around”, Harry protests. ”Can’t we go earlier?”

 

”All right, we’ll head over there after lunch. That should give you enough time to roam around together before the meeting. Sound good?”

 

Harry grins and nods. 

 

His excitement doesn’t deflate all morning and by the time they’re sitting down to eat lunch, he’s practically buzzing with it and Remus has to tell him sternly to slow down and chew his food properly, before he chokes. Harry hardly hears him though, and he finishes his meal in record time. 

 

”Well, you still have to wait for us…” Remus points out. 

 

Harry can _swear_ his daddy is eating slower than usual, but when accused of it Remus simply glowers back. 

 

Finally, both men have finished eating and the whole family makes their way out of the house and into the street where they can Disapparate. Harry hurriedly loops his arm around Remus’s so that he can Side-Along with him and as the nauseating pull of Disapparation grabs him, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath, concentrating on the pounding of his own heart until he feels his feet connect with solid ground again. He sucks in a deep breath and blinks his eyes open, barely noticing the tears that tumble down his cheeks as he looks around in excitement. 

 

They’re standing in the middle of a small square, surrounded by grimy old stone houses, the doors of which are peeling and slightly wonky. On the pavement in front of the steps to each door, several bulging bin bags have been piled and Harry can see at least one that’s been ripped, rubbish bleeding out onto the ground and having attracted a whole swarm of flies already… 

 

”This… this is it?” he says carefully, trying his hardest to hold onto his earlier excitement. 

 

”This is it…” Sirius confirms grimly. ”It used to be a nice area, actually… if my mother had seen this, well… I don’t think it’s actually possible for her to think any _less_ of her muggle neighbours than she already _did_ , but she wouldn’t have been pleased, let’s just put it that way…”

 

”What number is it?” Harry asks curiously, looking at the many doors for any sign that one of them would lead to a magical household. 

 

”Twelve”, Remus says, rifling through his pockets. 

 

”But…” Harry looks between numbers eleven and thirteen uncertainly. ”There’s no —”

 

”Here”, Remus says, passing him a folded piece of paper. ”Read that… and memorise it.”

 

Harry unfolds the parchment and quickly reads the short message, the narrow and neat handwriting unfamiliar to him. 

 

” _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_ ”, it says. 

 

Looking up from the note again, Harry’s eyes flit between house number eleven and thirteen eagerly. But nothing happens. 

 

”Think about what you’ve just read…” Remus says quietly. ”Concentrate.”

 

”Okay…” Harry mumbles. 

 

He stares at the clear line between the two townhouses and concentrates really hard on the message he’s just read and no sooner has he thought _twelve Grimmauld Place_ , than another beat-up door suddenly appears from nowhere along that line, soon followed by dirty and cracked walls on either side that push numbers eleven and thirteen steadily apart, until finally a whole new house stands in-between them. 

 

 _Number twelve Grimmauld place, the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,_ Harry thinks excitedly. _And my dad’s childhood home!_

 

”All right, let’s go…” Remus says, pulling Harry along gently towards the new set of stone steps that have materialised along with the house. 

 

The black paint of the door to number twelve is peeling, just like all the other doors in the neighbourhood, but unlike the other doors, a silver knocker sits in the middle of it, shaped like a twisted serpent, and there are no keyholes nor a little flap for muggle mail. 

 

Remus lets go of Harry’s shoulders and grabs his wand, tapping the door once. Immediately, Harry can hear the clicking and clattering of what sounds like numerous locks opening and then the door slides open with a creak, revealing a dark hallway.

 

”We must be the first ones here…” Sirius mutters, glancing around him furtively. ”Thought the Weasleys would have been here already…”

 

”We’re really early”, Remus says. ”I’m sure they’ll turn up soon… now get in quick, Harry. But stay inside the door and don’t touch anything…”

 

As soon as Harry steps over the threshold he is hit by the stench of dust and sour dampness, as well as a third smell that he can’t quite place… as his dads file in behind him and shut the door again, the hallway is instantly shrouded in complete darkness, as the few windows that Harry had seen from the outside are covered in heavy drapes to keep the daylight out. 

 

He shuffles further in, to give his dads room and immediately feels his knee knock into something solid next to the door.

 

” _Wait_ —” Remus hisses urgently and grabs a hold of his arm, but it’s too late. 

 

Whatever Harry knocked into falls over with a heavy thud and in the next moment a blood-curdling scream rings out in the silence, sending Harry’s heart into a panicked frenzy and he stumbles back against his daddy’s chest in fear. 

 

” _Damn it_ —!” Sirius barks, shoving past both of them and charging at something ahead of them in the darkness that Harry can’t see.

 

” _Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness—!_ ” a woman’s voice hollers from the general direction of where Sirius went.

 

”What—” Harry gasps, wondering hysterically if his dad is fighting some intruder in the darkness.

 

He feels Remus scramble for his wand and in the next moment, all the lamps along the hallway walls are lit and Harry can see Sirius tugging desperately on an old moth-eaten velvet curtain, trying to pull it back into place in front of a massive portrait of an elderly witch… _she’s the one screaming_ , Harry realises with a jolt and stares in bewilderment at her twisted face. 

 

 _”Yooouuu!”_ she shrieks, her eyes bulging incredulously at Sirius, as soon as the lights come on. _”Blood traitor! Abomination!”_

 

”Shut up!” Sirius roars.

 

Soon, all the other portraits that line the walls of the hallway begin to stir and join in with the screeching and hollering as well, and the noise is so deafening Harry instinctively clamps his hands over his ears. 

 

_”Shame of my flesh! Begone from this place!”_

 

”I — said — SHUT UP ! — REMUS! A LITTLE HELP—?” Sirius barks over the ruckus.

 

_”Half-breeds! Mutants!”_

 

Remus quickly darts forward to help him pull the stubborn curtains into place.

 

_”Freaks! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —!”_

 

Finally, the two men manage to pull the curtains closed again and an eerie silence falls, broken up only by Sirius panting breaths. 

 

”Well…” he says grimly. ”Now you’ve met your dear old grandmother, Harry…”

 

”That… that was your mother?” Harry says, staring in shock at the pulled velvet curtains. 

 

”Oh yes… in good form, as always… we’ve tried everything to get this blasted portrait down, but she probably put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the canvas. It won’t budge.”

 

Harry doesn’t know what to say, so he looks around at the other portraits curiously instead. They all seem to have gone to sleep now that Mrs Black have been silenced again. 

 

”Well, no harm done…” Remus says lightly, if a little out of breath. ”I’ll go wait in the kitchen for the others to show up, if you want to show Harry around, Sirius?”

 

”What?” Sirius says, frowning.

 

”Can you show me your room?” Harry asks him hopefully. ”I mean, your old bedroom, from when you were my age? Please?”

 

Sirius takes a deep breath and holds it in for a second, as if deliberating with himself. But then he nods. 

 

”Come on, then…” he mutters with a sigh. 

 

Harry grins excitedly and bounds after him as he begins to lead the way through the house. 

 

Harry remembers Remus telling him that Sirius had stuck pictures of muggle women on his bedroom walls, but he never said they’d be so… _scantily clad_ … Harry feels his cheeks grow hot as he glances at one particularly perky blonde, straddling a motorcycle. 

 

Not only is it unnerving to see a photograph so eerily _still_ , but the anatomy exposed is a little more than Harry would have liked to have seen, as well — especially in his dad’s old bedroom! — _it was only to piss his parents off,_ Harry reminds himself. 

 

He ventures a little further into the room and another poster catches his eye. This woman is a redhead and wearing even less than the blonde, which Harry would have thought impossible but there it is… _literally,_ he thinks. _There_ it _is_. 

 

He quickly averts his eyes again. Sirius snickers next to him and Harry throws him a half-hearted glare. 

 

”Definitely gay, then?” the older man says cheekily. 

 

”Gay?” Harry frowns in confusion. ”What’s that?”

 

”Muggle term for homosexual”, Sirius says, smile softening. 

 

” _Oh_. Yeah. Definitely”, Harry says, focusing instead on a poster of a motorcycle without any half-naked women on it. 

 

”Never had any doubts? You never wanted to just try it, with a witch — just to be sure?” Sirius asks him curiously. 

 

”No”, Harry says firmly, shaking his head and then, a horrible thought occurs to him and looks over at his dad. ”Why? Did you?”

 

Sirius barks out a laugh and rolls on the balls of his feet, nodding slightly. 

 

”You did?” Harry exclaims, horrified. 

 

” _I’m_ not gay, Harry”, Sirius says. 

 

” _What?_ ” 

 

”I’m, you know… bisexual”, Sirius says and shrugs.

 

 _He’s pulling my leg_ , Harry thinks. _He must be._

 

The smile slowly slips from Sirius’s face and he blinks, shifting his weight a little awkwardly. 

 

 _Oh Merlin,_ Harry thinks faintly. 

 

Sirius frowns, ”It’s no big deal, Harry. Really…”

 

”Does daddy know?”

 

”Know _what?_ It’s no big deal—!”

 

”That you’ve slept with other people” Harry demands. 

 

”We both have!” 

 

”Really, ’cause I remember daddy saying he’s been in love with you since first year!” 

 

”Yeah, but…” Sirius huffs in frustration. ”Harry… this thing with you and Draco, you have to understand, that’s… that’s not usually how it goes! People don’t usually meet the love of their lives in first year, and even if they do — like your daddy and I _did —_ they don’t usually get together immediately and then _stay_ together… usually, people experiment, or date other people, or they do get together but break up and… and… sometimes, you get lucky and you make up again…”

 

Harry blinks. He’s pretty sure his dad has just revealed way more about his and Remus past than he intended to and, judging by the frown on his face and the way he’s avoiding Harry’s eyes now, he’s probably regretting it already. 

 

Harry’s mind is reeling. 

 

His dads had broken up? And dated other people? _When?_

 

 _Or_ , his mind supplies unkindly. _Maybe it was only Sirius who dated other people… experimented… maybe he broke daddy’s heart and —_

 

 _It doesn’t matter,_ he tells himself sternly. _They were just teenagers and they worked it out in the end._

 

”Harry…” Sirius mutters, peering up at him through his lashes. ”Forget I said any of that, okay? It’s ancient history… It’s always been your daddy for me, I’ve never loved anyone else. Ever.”

 

”Okay…” Harry mumbles.

 

”I mean that…”

 

”Yeah, okay… I believe you… so did you ever bring him here?” Harry asks, looking around at the many half-naked muggle women on the walls again. 

 

”No way…” Sirius snorts. ”I never had anyone over… I always hated this place…” 

 

He trails off and gets that broody look on his face that always makes Harry feel uncomfortable. He desperately tries to come up with a change of subject, but then Sirius seems to throw the mood off on his own, because he blinks and gives his head a little shake, then focuses his eyes on Harry again, giving him a small smile. 

 

”Look at this…” he says with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

 

Harry follows him excitedly as he walks over to the bed and points to a particular picture pinned to the wall underneath a large poster of a muggle racing car. 

 

It’s a small black and white picture and Harry has to crawl on top of the bed to get close enough to see what it’s of, and as soon as he does he realises it’s a regular photograph, because it moves… it’s a snapshot of a young man no older than seventeen, sprawled out in the grass wearing only a pair of short trousers and basking in the sunlight, with one arm thrown across his face…  from what Harry can see of him and his lithe frame, he’s very attractive with clearly defined muscles… as if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, the young man suddenly removes the arm from his face and props himself up on his elbows, giving him a dazzling grin. Harry gapes — _it’s Remus!_

 

Sirius snickers behind him as he recoils with a blush. 

 

”Dad…” he groans, but he can’t help but grin as he continues to stare at the photograph. 

 

”It felt like a good idea at the time, but I’m regretting that permanent sticking charm now… it was my favourite picture of your daddy, and I can’t take it with me”, Sirius says. ”We were your age when that was taken…”

 

”Fifteen?” Harry murmurs. ”He looks older…”

 

”Yeah, he ages a little quicker than us”, Sirius says. ”But he still looks _great_ …”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, ”Gross…”

 

” _Hah!_ You thought he was gorgeous before you knew who it was!”

 

”Did not…” Harry mumbles, blushing furiously. 

 

”Come on, let me show you something else…” Sirius says, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

Sirius leads Harry back down to the first floor and a high-ceilinged drawing room with olive green walls peaking out between immense tapestries and large windows covered with heavy velvet curtains in a reather depressing moss green colour. As they step over the threshold, the grimy carpet lets out tiny clouds of dust around their feet. 

 

Venturing further into the room, Harry can hear a faint buzzing coming from the windows. 

 

”Doxys…” Sirius mutters. ”We should really get this house cleaned up, now that people are coming here… Molly has been saying it all summer… anyway, this is what I wanted to show you.”

 

He strides across the room and stops in front of the largest tapestry, peering at it with the sort of grimness that Harry has learned to associate with moments when his dad thinks about certain parts of his past, in particular things to do with his family… and sure enough, when Harry sidles up to him and follows his hard glare, he can see a massive and intricate tree depicted on the tapestry, in golden thread, each branch holding the head of a witch or wizard, like some macabre apples… and across the top of the tapestry it reads: _”The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ’Youjours pur’”_

 

 _The Black family tree,_ Harry thinks, feeling a staggering sense of awe as he looks towards the bottom of the tree trunk and realises it dates back to the Middle Ages. 

 

He then glances up towards the top of the smallest branches, scanning for his dad’s face… but he’s not there. Harry frowns, opening his mouth to ask about it, but before the words are out of his mouth, Sirius points to a small, round charred hole in the tapestry. 

 

”I used to be there”, he says, as if sensing Harry’s confusion. ”My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home… Kreacher’s quite fond of muttering the story under his breath, so I knew about it for ages, but I hadn’t actually seen it… until now…”

 

Harry peers up at his dad’s face, trying to decipher his mood. But Sirius’ face is unusually shuttered. There’s still a sense of grimness to his frown, but he looks more sad than angry… Harry shuffles a little closer to him and sneaks his hand into his larger one. Sirius flinches slightly, but quickly catches himself and gives Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze and smiles at him. 

 

”We never really had a relationship to begin with”, he says, as if that should make the whole thing better, but Harry thinks it does the opposite. 

 

”I’m sorry, dad”, he murmurs. 

 

” _I’m_ not”, Sirius says, flippantly. ”I always hated this family!”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything else, but he can still detect a hint of sadness in his dad’s eyes as he gazes at his family’s faces on the tapestry. 

 

”I couldn’t wait to get out”, Sirius continues. ”Then when I was about your age, a little older — I think I’d just turned sixteen — I told my mother about Remus and she threatened to disown me if I didn’t break it off with him, so… I left… went to stay with — with the Potters, actually… I’m sure your daddy have told you that, but… The Potters were really good about it, let me camp out on the floor of James’ room during the school hols, and as soon as we turned seventeen, Remus and I got a place of our own — my uncle Alphard had left me some gold; he’s been blasted off here, too, that’s probably why…”

 

”Did you ever see your mother again?” Harry asks carefully. 

 

”Couple of times”, Sirius says. ”Always in a café, because she refused to come to the flat and I refused to come here…”

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry mumbles again. 

 

”Don’t be”, Sirius says firmly. 

 

He pulls his hand away from Harry’s and shoves it into his trouser pocket, rolling on the balls of his feet. Harry gets the distinct feeling he’s avoiding eye contact with him, so he turns back to the tapestry as well, letting his gaze travel to the branch next to the one where Sirius should be… _Regulus Black (b.1961 d.1979)… dad’s brother… died at eighteen…_

 

Again, as if reading Harry’s thoughts, Sirius nods towards Regulus’ picture. 

 

”Regulus, my little brother, was the perfect son I couldn’t be…”

 

”You never talk about him”, Harry says carefully. 

 

”Nothing to say”, Sirius says curtly. 

 

”He died so young, though —”

 

”He was an idiot”, Sirius mutters. ”Joined the Death Eaters —”

 

Harry whips his head around and stares at his dad in horror. 

 

”— got in so far, then got cold feet and tried to back out again”, Sirius continues, shaking his head bitterly. ”You don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort, though… it’s a lifetime of service or death… well, he died.”

 

Harry looks back at the faded picture of the young man. Although Sirius is more handsome, there’s definitely a family resemblance… for some reason, it makes Harry’s chest feel tight. 

 

 _It could have been my dad_ , he thinks. 

 

Except, no, of course it couldn’t. Sirius would never have join the Death Eaters, or he wouldn’t be Sirius… and as sad as it is to think about a young Sirius running away from home and being disowned by his family, the alternative is obviously a lot worse. Because if Sirius would have been the son his parents wanted him to be, he’d be dead or worse now… 

 

”There’s Phineas Nigellus”, Sirius says lightly, clearly trying to diffuse the sudden tension and points to a wizard further down the tree. ”He was my great-great-grandfather and the least popular Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had… Araminta Meliflua, my mother’s cousin, she tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal…” Harry blinks, not knowing whether to laugh or be outraged. ”That’s dear Aunt Elladora, she was the one who started the family tradition of beheading the house-elves when they got too old to carry tea-trays… my favourite cousin Andromeda’s been blasted off as well — look —”

 

He points to another round mark. 

 

”Well, she would be, married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks — great guy — you’ve met their daughter a couple of times, I don’t know if you remember, Nymphadora Tonks, but she hates it —”

 

”— when you call her Nymphadora!” Harry says, grinning. ”I _do_ remember her! She kept changing her hair into different colours and making me laugh…”

 

”Yeah, she’s a Metamorphmagus, she can change everything about her appearance, not just her hair… she actually changed her nose, as well, to make you laugh, but instead you got scared and started crying…” Sirius says, smiling fondly at the memory.

 

”I don’t remember that…”

 

”Remus got annoyed with us… anyway, she’s not on here either. My other cousins are still here though, they would be — married into proper pureblood families — see? Bellatrix and Narcissa… and there’s your Draco, as well…”

 

”What?” Harry gasps, leaning closer to the tapestry. 

 

A fine piece of gold thread connects _Narcissa Malfoy (née Black)_ to _Lucius Malfoy,_ and then from the two of them sprouts a new small branch, at which end Draco’s head has been embroidered. 

 

”I keep forgetting you’re related to the Malfoys…” he mumbles. 

 

He feels slightly weird about that, even though he himself isn’t even related to Sirius by blood, so it doesn’t even matter. 

 

”The pureblood families are all interrelated”, Sirius says dismissively. ”That’s what happens when you only let your sons and daughters marry other purebloods… there are hardly any of us left now.”

 

Tearing his eyes away from the picture of Draco, Harry traces the bloodline back to Narcissa and then glances past the charred mark where Andromeda used to be and looks at Narcissa’s sister Bellatrix… there’s something about her heavy-lidded eyes that reminds Harry of something, like he’s seen her somewhere before but he can’t quite put his finger on where… the name too, _Lestrange,_ rings a bell… 

 

”The Lestranges are Death Eaters, too…” Sirius says bitterly. ”They’re in Azkaban now.”

 

”For what?” Harry asks immediately, as a creeping sensation begins to stir in his stomach. 

 

”They tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom, along with Rodolphos’s brother Rabastan and… and Barty Crouch Junior…”

 

 _The Pensieve_ , Harry thinks with a jolt. _The courtroom — Barty Crouch Junior calling for his parents and insisting he was innocent — these people were two of the other three; Bellatrix was the woman with haughty look on her face, who at the end of the trial stood proud and said the Dark Lord would rise again and reward them for their loyalty!_

 

”You never said —” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Yeah, well”, Sirius says shortly. ”What does it even matter? Think I’m proud of having a relative like her? As far as I’m concerned, she’s not my family. None of them are. I cut my ties with the lot of them when I was sixteen!”

 

”I’m sorry!” Harry blurts, heart beating a steady tattoo in his chest. ”I didn’t mean—”

 

”Don’t apologise!” Sirius grouses, then spins on his heel and turns his back to the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets as he glares across the drawing room. ”I just hate being back here, that’s all… it gives me the creeps…”

 

Harry nods, understanding completely. It’s not the nicest place, that’s for sure… and it doesn’t sound like it was much better when his grandparents were alive and living here either… 

 

”At least you got out”, Harry says tentatively and Sirius gives him a sidelong glance. ”I mean, it all worked out… in the end… right?”

 

A small smile finally flickers into his dad’s face and he heaves a tired sigh, but nods. 

 

”Yes, Harry…” he says quietly. ”It definitely did… I’ve been very lucky, in so many ways…”

 

He looks away quickly, just as a suspicious sheen appears in his eyes and clears his throat discreetly. Harry’s hand is itching to reach out to him again, but he resists this time. 

 

”I’d forgotten about that time when Tonks made you cry…” Sirius says in a thoughtful tone of voice.

 

”She also made me laugh”, Harry says. ”That’s what _I_ remember…”

 

”Yeah…” Sirius mumbles. ”I can’t believe I found it funny, though… you sort of jumped, all startled and the next thing we knew you were bawling your eyes out and running to Remus, and I felt bad but… I also thought it was very funny, I actually started laughing… Remus was so cross with me…”

 

He huffs out a half-chuckle and shakes his head. 

 

”You weren’t, of course. I just had to pick you up and spin you around, and the scary girl with the hawk beak was all forgotten again…”

 

”Oh yeah…” Harry says slowly, as a faint image flutters to the forefront of his mind. ”I think I _do_ remember that… I thought she was going to peck me!”

 

Sirius lets out a full chuckle, but it quickly dies down and the smile slowly falls from his face. 

 

”Truth is, Harry… I look at you now and I don’t see a little boy anymore, I see a young man and I know it shouldn’t matter, because you’ll always be mine and Remus’s boy, even when you’re old and grey, but I just… I just don’t know what to say to you sometimes… it was so much easier when you were little, you asked simpler questions and when you were sad, or scared, all I had to do was lift you up and spin you around like that… I can hardly do that now, can I…"

 

"You could try…” Harry says lightly, shrugging one of his shoulders. 

 

”Yeah…” Sirius with a dry chuckle. ”But… I’m not like Remus, I don’t have his… instincts… you know? Half the time I have no idea what I’m doing, and the other half I’m sure I get it wrong anyway, but he… he just knows exactly what to say and do, no matter what the situation is… I envy his and your relationship sometimes — No, that’s not true — I didn’t mean that. I just…”

 

”It’s okay, dad”, Harry says quickly. ”I get it…”

 

Sirius’s eyes flits back to Harry’s face and his lips twitch a little. 

 

”I guess I just wish you felt as close to me as you do to him… I mean… I don’t mean… I just, I want you to know that you can come to me too, if you ever need to talk or… whatever. I might not say the right thing, at least not on the first try, but... I’ll listen and I’ll understand and… and I’ll love you…”

 

”I know that, dad”, Harry says, smiling. ”I love you too…”

 

Sirius blushes a bright red and immediately looks away again, clearing his throat a couple of more times, nodding briskly.

 

”Good… good, good… I’m glad we… glad we had this talk! Let’s go find your daddy, what do you say?”

 

Smiling wryly, Harry just nods and follows as Sirius strides back across the drawing room and slips out the door, nearly stumbling over the slouched form of Kreacher, as the house-elf shuffles past, muttering to himself about blood-traitors and his poor mistress. 

 

”That’s enough of your bile, Kreacher”, Sirius snaps. ”Go make yourself useful and do some dusting or something!”

 

”Yes, master!” Kreacher mutters, bowing deeply, then adding sourly under his breath. ”Master was an ungrateful swine who broke his mother’s heart…”

 

”My mother didn’t have a heart, Kreacher”, Sirius snaps. ”She kept herself alive out of pure spite!”

 

Then before the house-elf can mutter any sort of retort, he puts his hand on Harry’s back and urges him to continue walking towards the stairs. 

 

When they walk into to the kitchen, they find Remus sat at the table chatting with Professor Snape over cups of tea and Harry can literally feel his dad tense up next to him, but pretends not to and smiles at his Head of House. 

 

”Professor!”

 

”Hello, Harry… Black…” Professor Snape murmurs, his black eyes darting between the two of them before settling on Harry and softening slightly. ”Have you had a good summer?”

 

Considering Professor Snape has already helped Harry’s dads devise a schedule for his course of Dreamless Sleep, Harry is pretty sure the Potions Master already knows all about his summer, but he keeps smiling and says it’s been fine. 

 

”It seems the others are running a little late”, Remus says. ”There’s tea in the pot, though…”

 

Sirius mutters something about coffee and proceeds to make himself busy over at the kitchen counter, but Harry walks over to the table and takes the seat next to his daddy. 

 

”How has your summer been, Professor?” he asks politely. 

 

”Fine, thank you”, Snape says, inclining his head. 

 

Harry gets the feeling he means _fine,_ the way Harry means it. But since the professor didn’t question _his_ lie, Harry won’t question his either…

 

”How is the Dreamless Slee—?” 

 

”Harry, do you want some coffee?” Sirius asks suddenly, rudely interrupting Snape but acting like he didn’t notice. 

 

Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes. 

 

”No, I’m fine”, he says, before turning back to Snape with an apologetic look. ”It’s working really well, I’m sleeping loads better, thank you, Sir…”

 

Snape gives him a small nod of acknowledgement, but his eyes immediately flit back to glare at Sirius’s back. 

 

The muffled sound of the front door creaking open and Mrs Weasley’s whispered voice as she shepherds her children into the house cuts through the tense silence suddenly, followed by what sounds hissed bickering from one of the boys and a voice that is unmistakably Granger’s. 

 

”That will be the Weasleys!” Remus says, sounding immensely relieved. ”Harry, maybe you should—”

 

”Oh, look, here’s Mundungus, as well… _What is that?_ ”

 

”Oh what now…” Remus mutters. 

 

”WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!”

 

All three men let out matching groans, that are instantly drowned out by the piercing shriek from Mrs Black’s portrait that seems to have been woken up again and Harry can’t help a chuckle from escaping, especially when Professor Snape and Sirius immediately glare at one another again, as if the other had mimicked them. 

 

”— COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE—!”

 

” _Filthy half-breeds! Blood-traitors!_ ”

 

”—AS IF WE HAVEN’T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT—!”

 

” _Stains of dishonour!_ ”

 

”—WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS—!”

 

” _Children of filth!”_

 

”—INTO HEADQUARTERS—!”

 

Mrs Weasley’s voice is finally overpowered as the rest of the portraits join in with the shrieking and hollering, turning the hallway to one jumbled cacophony of noise. 

 

In the next moment, the rest of the Weasley clan and Hermione Granger come scurrying into the kitchen, all of them looking a little ruffled and none so much as Granger who, Harry supposes, isn’t as used to this kind of display as the rest of the Weasleys, which is probably why she seems almost shell-shocked now. 

 

”I love hearing mum shouting at someone else”, one of the twins says with a grin, both of whom are hardly affected at all by the screaming match upstairs, which tells Harry they are the _most_ used to it. ”It makes for such a nice change!” he adds, proving Harry right. 

 

”Heya, Remus! Sirius!… Snape…” the other twin greets the men in the room, before turning to Harry with a grin and a wink.

 

Harry grins back. 

 

”All right…” Remus says decisively and pushes to his feet, then continues in his best teacher’s voice. ”Hello everyone. I think it’s best if you all wait in the drawing room while the meeting is going on — it’s the safest room in the house apart from the kitchen, Harry, so please stay there — and someone will come and collect you once the meeting is finished.”

 

”Any news, Sirius?” the first win asks Sirius pleasantly as he sidles up to him. 

 

”You heard Remus”, the other man says with a smirk. ”Off you go!”

 

”Fine…” the boy mutters with an eye-roll and bounds over to Harry instead, clapping him on the back a couple of times. ”Hey, Harry…”

 

”Hey…” Harry smiles, standing up and following as the others file out of the kitchen. 

 

”And remember, _stay in the drawing room!_ ” Remus calls after them. 

 

When they’re all safe inside the drawing room and Ginny has shut the door, which drowns out most of the ruckus in the hallway, they all turn to stare almost expectantly at Harry. 

 

”Er… what’s up?” he says awkwardly. 

 

”Tell us everything you know”, one of the twins says excitedly. 

 

”Sorry guys, I probably know even less than you… I haven’t even been allowed to the house before today…”

 

The twins’ faces fall and their shoulders slump, but they quickly shake off the disappointment again and begin to sell him on something called _Skiving Snackboxes_ , which apparently is some kind of experimental sweets they’ve manufactured themselves that, depending on the particular sweet, will produce all sorts of nasty effects, like nosebleeds and fainting spells… Harry blinks. 

 

”Why would I want to get a nosebleed?”

 

”Exactly!” Granger huffs, shooting the twins a disapproving glare. 

 

”To get out of class, like a particularly boring Divinations lesson  — not that you need help with that, eh, Harry?” one of the twins says cheekily and winks at him. ”Or a test you feel unprepared for…”

 

”Yeah, but… then I’ll have a nosebleed…” Harry counters. 

 

”Yeah, but that’s where the genius comes in”, the other twin says, completely ignoring Granger’s loud snort. ”As soon as you’re out of class, or wherever, you just bite off the other side of the sweet, which has the _antidote_ …”

 

”That… that’s actually really clever…” Harry murmurs. ”I can’t believe no-one’s thought of it before!”

 

”See…” the older boy says with grin. ”We developed all sorts of sweets last year and during the summer we’ve been setting up a mail ordering company… if you promise not to tell our mum, you can introduce the snackboxes to the other Slytherins…”

 

”Don’t know that it would be very popular with my friends…” Harry says, smiling at the others’ disbelieving looks. ”Seamus maybe, but the others aren’t quite into skiving off…”

 

”Come off it—!”

 

”It’s true.”

 

”What, Slytherins don’t cheat?”

 

”Of course we do, but we don’t _skive off_ … that will just come back to bite you on the bum, won’t it, if you think about it… you’ll just have to do the work as homework later to catch up, or if you got out of sitting a test, you’ll still have to sit it later…”

 

”Yeah, when you’re _better prepared!_ ”

 

”I know”, Harry says. ” _I_ can see the point… but then again, I’m one of the few Slytherins in our year who wouldn’t be prepared for a test in the first place…”

 

”Oh…” the twins say, disappointed. ”Well… even if it’s just for personal use, then… we can even offer you a friendly discount, even!”

 

”Hey!” Ron says, shooting his brothers a disgruntled glare. 

 

Harry looks over at the redhead, realising this is the first time he’s been this close to him since they went to the Yule Ball together. As if thinking the same thing, Ron’s eyes flicker over to him and a bright red blush flares up in his face. Harry gives him a pinched smile. 

 

”Harry…” Granger says suddenly. ”Have you… erm… noticed any _bugs_ during the summer?”

 

”What?” Harry says, frowning at the girl. 

 

”I mean… not just _any_ buys, but… any _particular_ ones?”

 

”Er… no?”

 

”Just leave it, Hermione”, Ron mutters under his breath, his blush still making his face look like a tomato. 

 

”It’s just that… I couldn’t help noticing… at Hogsmeade Station, when you were… er… saying goodbye to your, ehm, friends…”

 

” _Hermione!_ ” Ron hisses. 

 

”There was a bug!” the girl insists. ”It was flying around your head.”

 

”Yes…” Harry mutters, remembering the bug she’s talking about. ”What of it?”

 

”Well, have you seen it _again?_ ”

 

” _What?_ ” Harry says bewildered — as if he’d be able to tell one insect apart from all the rest!

 

”Nothing”, Ron says quickly. ”Hermione, just leave it…”

 

”Hey, anyone seen Kreacher yet?” one of the twins says suddenly, earning glares from the other three Weasleys. 

 

”Like that’s better”, his twin mutters. 

 

”Don’t try and get Harry to join spew!” Ron tells Hermione quickly. 

 

” _Spew?_ ” Harry repeats, feeling more and more bewildered by the Gryffindors — are they always this confusing?

 

”NOTHING!” all the Weasleys say in unison.

 

Granger crosses her arms with an annoyed huff, her hair seemingly getting frizzier by sheer frustration. 

 

”It’s not _spew,_ how many times—?”

 

”Who’s up for a game of Gobstones?” Ginny suggests, talking over the other girl. 

 

”What is she even doing here?” Harry asks one of the twins in an undertone, as the others begin to set up the game. 

 

He shrugs. 

 

”We’ve tried to get the truth out of Ronnikins, but he _claims_ they’re _just friends_ …”

 

”Oh…” Harry says. 

 

He looks in surprise between Ron and Granger and tries to picture them as a couple… but quickly stops again and focuses on the Gobstones instead. 

 

 

*

 

 

When Harry started practising the Patronus Charm with Remus and the man reiterated the importance of finding a happy memory that’s powerful enough to sustain the charm, Harry thought that would hardly be a problem for him. In fact, as went over all of his happy memories, he realised he would actually be hard-pressed to pick _just one_ … but as the days went on and he only managed to produce some feeble silvery sparks (if that!) he started to realise what his daddy meant… and he also began to feel slightly perturbed; he’s remembering all the times when he’s been the happiest in his life and yet he can’t seem to conjure a Patronus, so does that mean all those times weren’t as happy as he’d thought?

 

 _Have I ever been happy at all?_ he thinks hopelessly as he watches yet another spurt of silvery sparks shoot out of his wand, only to immediately fade away again. 

 

”Don’t get disheartened…” his daddy says. ”You’re doing really well, Harry… I know you’re feeling impatient, but this is really advanced magic—”

 

”Beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels, I know…” Harry mutters. ”I’m running out of memories to try, though…”

 

”Okay…” Remus says thoughtfully. ”Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s not the quality of your memories, but your concentration… if you just stick with one memory and keep focusing on that, _really focus_ …”

 

”I _am_ focusing!” Harry grouses. ”It’s not working! _I suck_ —!”

 

”Okay, that’s it for today”, Remus says firmly.

 

”No, no, no — I’m sorry — I want to try again!” 

 

”It’s not going to work if you’re in a bad mood or have a negative attitude, Harry”, Remus says, shaking his head. ”You need to have confidence in yourself and your memory, because if you feel defeated, you are actively working _against_ the charm, you see… this charm is designed to combat Dementors, whose very weapon is the ability to bring out the worst experiences from you, to make you feel depressed and defeated… if you’re already doing that to yourself, well…”

 

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. 

 

_That makes sense…_

 

”Tell you what…” Remus says kindly. ”Let’s take a break for now… the full moon is this weekend—”

 

”I know”, Harry sighs. 

 

”So why don’t you take the weekend and choose one of your favourite memories… then when I get back, we try again and then I want you to think of just the _one_ memory, the whole time… see if that makes a difference… okay?”

 

”Okay…” Harry sighs. ”Do you really have to go away for your transformation, though?”

 

”Harry…” Remus sighs. ”We’re not having this discussion every month.”

 

”I just don’t like the idea of you being alone”, Harry mumbles. ”Why don’t _I_ go away—?”

 

”Don’t be silly”, Remus says, pulling him in for a one-armed hug and gives him a peck on the cheek. ”It’s just for the worst couple of days… your dad has taken tomorrow off work, and I should be home again on Sunday night, so I get to see you before you start school on Monday…”

 

”At least let me start my animagus process already…?” Harry begs. 

 

Remus looks down at him seriously, a look of deep thought flickering over his face before he blinks it away and smiles gently. He doesn’t answer Harry though, just gives him another kiss, this time on the forehead. 

 

That evening after dinner, Remus makes Harry a cup of herbal tea and tucks him into bed, as per their new tradition on the nights that Harry isn’t allowed to take the Dreamless Sleep, then sits on the edge of his bed and combs his fingers through Harry’s hair until he falls asleep… it’s worked quite well the last few times, but tonight, Harry finds himself fighting sleep again. 

 

”Daddy…” he mumbles sleepily. ”I don’t want you to go.”

 

”Shhh…” Remus hushes him gently. ”Don’t think about that now, just try and relax…”

 

”I _am_ trying”, Harry mutters, aware that he’s acting like a little child and feeling rather foolish about it. ”But I know as soon as I fall asleep you’ll leave…”

 

He feels his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and struggles to stubbornly keep them open. But Remus fingers dragging through his hair is oddly hypnotic.

 

”I’ll be back before you know it”, the man says quietly. ”And you get to spend the weekend with your dad, just the two of you… Merlin knows what mischief you’ll get up to while I’m away, but I’m sure it’s going to be awesome fun…”

 

”Awesome fun…” Harry repeats doubtfully, his words slurring slightly as sleep tugs on him. 

 

Remus doesn’t say anything else. Harry is just about to sit up and demand a reply — they haven’t finished their conversation yet, as far as he is concerned — but first, he’s just going to rest his eyes. Just for a second. Just long enough to let the itchy sensation subside. 

 

He feels his daddy’s fingers comb through his hair, the fingertips dragging across his scalp. They continue down his neck and arms… no, wait… not fingertips, but bugs… they’re crawling all over his body and Hermione Granger is sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed, watching his face intently as he tries to shake the bugs off. 

 

”Do you see the bugs, Harry?” the girl asks him seriously. 

 

”Get them off me!” he gasps. 

 

”Do you notice anything strange about the bugs, Harry?”

 

”What?” he gasps, thrashing around, trying to get the hundreds of bugs off him. ”What are you talking about? _Just get them off me!_ ”

 

”They’re not just _any_ bugs, Harry. Look at them. _Look._ ”

 

” _What are you talking about?_ ”

 

”LOOK AT THE BUGS, YOU PATHETIC HALF-BREED!”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest and he whips his head around and stares at the girl at the foot of his bed. Except it’s not a girl at the foot of his bed anymore. It’s an old woman and her face is twisted in furious disgust as she looks down on him. 

 

”YOU FILTHY ABOMINATION!” she shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger at his heart. ”BRINGING BUGS INTO THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK!”

 

”I-I-I’m s-sorry!” Harry gasps. ”I didn’t _mean to_ —!”

 

”GET OUT! _GET OUT OF THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!_ ”

 

Scrambling off the bed in a panic, Harry gets tangled up in his blanket and falls hard to the floor. He struggles out of the blanket and stumbles to his feet, throwing himself headlong out of his bedroom door. As soon as it slams shut behind him, Mrs Black’s piercing screams are cut off and an echoing silence follows… Harry spins around quickly, trying to get his bearings… he’s standing in a dark corridor. 

 

 _I’ve been here before,_ he thinks with a jolt. _I know this place. I know where I need to go._

 

He starts walking quickly down the corridor, his steps echoing eerily around him and he hears his own blood pounding in his ears. 

 

_Not far now…_

 

Finally, he reaches a door at the end of the corridor and his heart begins to hammer harder and harder as he stares at the door handle. 

 

 _I need to open the door,_ he thinks. _I_ need _to get to the other side._

 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and Harry startles. 

 

” _Harry?_ ”

 

He blinks. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest now, he’s almost worried it’s going to break his ribs and come flying out… 

 

”Harry? You awake?”

 

He blinks again. Something is wrong with his eyes… his eyelids are heavy and his eyeballs stick to the inside of them… he presses the heels of his hands against the lids and rubs them. The more he rubs and the more he blinks, the brighter the corridor seems to get… finally, the light is so bright it’s blinding… 

 

”Hey, sleepy-head… time to get up!”

 

Harry lifts his head up from the pillow and squints up at his dad, as the last remnants of the dream fades away. 

 

”Whaaa…” he croaks. 

 

”It’s almost ten”, Sirius says from the doorway. ”Rise and shine!”

 

Harry just groans in reply and shoves his face back into his pillow. 

 

”There’s coffee…” 

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry pushes himself up to sitting. He hears his dad let out a bark of laughter and gestures rudely in his general direction. 

 

”Hey, it’s not my fault your hair is allergic to your pillow!” Sirius quips. ”Now hurry up, or your coffee will get cold…”

 

”Charm it”, Harry calls after him croakily. 

 

” _Nope!_ ” Sirius calls back from the hallway. 

 

Harry mutters darkly to himself and kicks the blanket away, before hauling himself to his feet and staggering out of his bedroom. 

 

After three gulps of coffee, he begins to feel alive again and mumbles an apology to his dad. Sirius simply shakes his head with a grin. 

 

”I would have let you sleep, but… the thing is, I got a floo call from work a while ago and they need me to come in.”

 

”Daddy said you took the day off”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”I did, but they need me to come in, just for a second… something’s come up, and you know I can’t talk about it but… it shouldn’t take too long, so I was thinking, I could either drop you off at Grimmauld Place, I think the Weasleys are there—”

 

”Why?” Harry whines, really not feeling up for socialising with any Weasley right now. ”Why can’t I just stay here?”

 

”Your daddy would kill me if I left you alone”, Sirius says firmly. ”So either you go hang out at Grimmauld Place—”

 

”No”, Harry says firmly. 

 

”Or… you come with me to the Ministry. I can’t take you to my Department, but I’m sure Arthur wouldn’t mind if you just waited for me in his office.”

 

”Arthur Weasley?” Harry says. ”So my options are, hanging out with the Weasleys or hanging out with the Weasleys?”

 

”Arthur will be working”, Sirius counters. ”You won’t have to _hang out_ with him… you’d be sitting nicely in his office, staying out of trouble, while I go deal with the emergency in my Department.”

 

”Sounds fun”, Harry mutters. 

 

In the end, he decides he rather sit in Arthur Weasley’s office and read the latest issue of _Snitch_ , than play nice with the rest of the Weasley clan. He’d have quite a good time playing Gobstones with them the other day, but it’s not the same as hanging out with his own friends… it’s not as relaxing, because he’s on his guard the whole time. He can’t help it. Being surrounded by gryffindors, especially ones he haven’t quite got figured out — as cool as they are — it is emotionally draining to interact with them for longer periods of time. Especially a whole group of them. 

 

Hanging out with Ron at the Yule Ball had been very relaxed and fun (disasterous consequences with Draco aside) and he’s pretty sure that he would have a great time if he were to hang out with just the twins for an afternoon as well. But Ron and the twins plus Granger and Ginny, all at once. That’s a lot of personalities to interact with. 

 

Sirius Side-Alongs Harry to the Apparation point around the corner from the Ministr’s visitors’ entrance, concealed inside a muggle communications’ cubicle called a ’fone-box’ and once they’ve crammed themselves inside it, Sirius lifts the top off the clunky muggle contraption and then carefully turns a dial halfway round, until his finger reaches the number six. He then lets the dial roll back to the beginning with a whirring sound, before he turns it again, this time to number two. 

 

Harry watches curiously as the dial whirrs back to zero after each number Sirius dials, until finally, the sequence of numbers is finished and a woman’s voice greets them. 

 

”Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

 

”Sirius Black, Department of Mysteries”, Sirius speaks clearly to the muggle contraption. ”And I’ve got my son, Harry Potter, with me…”

 

”Thank you”, the woman’s voice says coolly. ”Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes…”

 

With a rattle and dink, something shiny drops out of the contraption and into a small chute at the bottom. Harry fishes it out and holds it up in the light. It’s a small, square badge that reads ”Harry Potter, visiting a parent/guardian”

 

Sirius puts the top of the muggle contraption back and then helps Harry pin the badge to the front of his robes, as the woman’s voice continues to speak slowly and tonelessly. 

 

”Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

 

”All right…” Sirius says briskly, as the floor of the fone-box begins to sink with a shudder. 

 

They continue to sink further and further below ground, until the darkness of the earth has enveloped the small box completely. 

 

Then, a small sliver of golden light appears at their feet and it steadily grows until the whole box is blasted with light and Harry has to blink several times until his eyes adjusts to the sudden brightness. Finally the box comes to a shuddering stop on the gleaming hardwood floor. 

 

”The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day”, the woman’s voice says and the door slides open. 

 

”Come on, this way…” Sirius says and leads the way down the long hallway. 

 

Harry gapes in astonishment as he looks around. The hall is panelled in polished, dark wood and lined with fireplaces through which several witches and wizards appear in sudden bursts of brilliant green flames as Harry and Sirius amble past. And as Harry gazes up at the ceiling, at first believes it to be enchanted like the ceiling in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, because it’s shade of blue is almost exactly the same as the sky in early evening and it appears to be full of twinkling stars — except they’re not stars at all, he realises quickly — but golden symbols that keep changing. 

 

” _Harry, hurry up!_ ” Sirius calls after him. 

 

Harry jogs to catch up with him at the end of the Arrivals’ hall and stops suddenly, staring in awe at the sight before him. If the Arrivals’ Hall had been impressive, it is nothing compared to the Atrium. It’s just as bright as the Arrivals’ hall, but massive and in the centre stands a large, circular pool with a beautifully crafted golden fountain in the middle, depicting a witch and wizard surrounded by a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. Jets of water shoot out of the witch and wizard’s wands, as well as from the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat and each of the house-elf’s bat-like ears. 

 

The soothing sound of running water is broken up by the _crack_ of Apparation, as Ministry workers pop into existance and shuffle along towards a golden gate. 

 

”Come on, security is this way…” Sirius mumbles, pulling on Harry’s arm. 

 

They walk over to a wizard sat at a small desk, under a sign that reads _’Security’_ and Sirius sidles up to him, giving him one of his dazzling smiles. The old wizard gives him a half-hearted glare, but puts down his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. 

 

”Brought my boy with me today”, Sirius says unnecessarily.

 

”You’re not bringing him _with_ you?” the security wizard says suspisciously, giving Harry a quick once-over.

 

”Not downstairs, no”, Sirius says quickly. ”I’m leaving him with Arthur Weasley on level two.”

 

”All right…” the older man mutters, then turns back to Harry. ”Step over here, then…”

 

Harry walks over to the spot the man’s pointing to and holds perfectly still as he runs a long, thin golden rod in front of him and then the same along his back. 

 

”That’s fine”, the man mutters. ”Give me your wand…”

 

Harry hands him his wand and watches nervously as he puts it on top of a brass scale that immediately begins to vibrate, before spitting out a thin strip of parchment. The old wizard tears it off and then holds it up, close to his face, as he reads the tiny writing: ”Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years… that correct?”

 

He peers over at Harry, who nods quickly. 

 

”All right then…” the man mutters. ”I’ll keep this… you get your wand back…”

 

”Thank you”, Harry mumbles, pocketing the wand again. 

 

”Thanks, Eric”, Sirius says. ”Don’t work too hard now!”

 

”Shove off, you…” the old man mutters, settling back into his chair and picking up his _Prophet_ again.

 

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, then slaps his hand down on top of Harry’s shoulder and begins to steer him back towards the throng of witches and wizards making their way through the golden gates. Cracks of Apparation can still be heard punctuating the otherwise rather quiet Atrium, most of the Ministry workers still sleepy and not really talking to anyone. 

 

”Do you usually just Apparate in here?” Harry asks his dad curiously. 

 

”Sometimes”, Sirius says. ”Most of the time I take the bike and park up the road, though…”

 

”And then you go through the Visitors’ entrance, like we just did?”

 

”No, no, there’s another entrance for Ministry workers”, Sirius tells him. ”It’s on the other side of the Atrium and it’s disguised to the muggles as a public toilet…”

 

”Ew…” Harry mutters. 

 

”You get used to it…”

 

They reach another hall and join the queue to one of twenty lifts behind wrought golden grilles, that descends in front of them with a lot of clanking and clanging. Sirius steers Harry in front of him, into the lift and pushes him into the back corner, then angles himself so that he’s shielding Harry slightly from the rest of the crowd. Harry peers up into his face questioningly, and the man gives him a subtle wink. 

 

”Level seven: Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office…” the same woman’s voice that greeted them in the fone-box says to the lift at large, before the lift comes to a clanging stop and the doors open to reveal a rather untidy corridor, walls papered with countless Quidditch posters in a sort of patchwork style. 

 

As two wizards disentangle themselves from the crowd and walk out into the corridor, the remaining people inside the lift rearrange themselves automatically and a witch moves to stand next to Sirius. The bored look on her face quickly slips away as she accidentally catches sight of Harry, partially hidden from view behind Sirius and her eyes immediately dart up to the scar on his forehead. Harry shuffles his feet and moves even further into the corner, so that Sirius body is shielding him from the woman completely again, before he quickly flattens his fringe. 

 

”Level six: Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office and Apparation Test Centre…”

 

And so it continues, higher and higher inside the vast Ministry. 

 

At level three, a swarm of pink aeroplanes zooms inside the lift and flit around the glass of the overhead lamp until they reach level two, where all but one of them zip out of the lift again. Harry follows a few of them with his gaze as Sirius steers him off the lift as well, but almost immediately loses sight of them again when they enter a large, open area divided into smaller cubicles and the aeroplanes scatter and dart into some of those cubicles. 

 

Auror Headquarters, Harry reads on a lopsided sign hanging over the nearest one, before Sirius continues to push him along, past all the aurors inside their cubicles, like miniature offices adorned with Wanted Posters as well as family photographs. 

 

After Harry accidentally locks eyes with the young Auror who came to the house to interrogate him, he stops peering inside the cubicles and keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the space in front of him until Sirius steers him round a corner and through a second set of doors. They continue along a dimly lit corridor, turn right into an even dimmer one that stops abruptly in a dead end. Sirius turns to the door on the right-hand side and raps his knuckles against it. 

 

 _Misuse of Muggle Artefacts,_ the sign above the door reads. It swings open with a soft groan and Mr Weasley greets them both with a wide grin and gestures for them to step inside, what turns out to be a rather small and stuffy office without any enchanted windows, into which someone has crammed two desks and endless rows of overflowing filing cabinets.

 

”Sirius, Harry — so nice to see you both again — come in, come in!” Mr Weasley says. 

 

”Thanks for this, Arthur”, Sirius says.

 

”Oh, it’s no bother, no bother at all”, Mr Weasley says kindly, smiling down at Harry as though he was a small boy who needs reassurance and Harry barely refrains from bristling and instead smiles back, albeit tightly. ”Harry, this is my colleague, Perkins…”

 

An elderly wizard with drooping shoulders and a full head of white hair that reminds Harry of spun sugar, stands up slowly and gives Harry a small nod. Harry nods back stiffly, his smile tightening even further. 

 

”All right, well…” Sirius says, clapping his hands together and backing towards the open door again. 

 

”Can’t I come with you?” Harry blurts out desperately. 

 

”I shan’t be long”, Sirius says. 

 

”Fine…” Harry sighs. 

 

”We’ll be all right, you go on ahead”, Mr Weasley says, waving Sirius away before turning back to Harry, again with a rather indulgent smile on his face as he leans down slightly. ”I see you’ve brought a magazine…”

 

”Yeah…” Harry mutters. 

 

”It’s a Quidditch magazine, isn’t it, Snitch? Yes, I think I’ve read that a few times…”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says again. ”It’s the latest issue. I’ll just…”

 

He looks around for somewhere to sit, but there is literally no available space for a third chair. If he wants to have a seat, he’ll have to hop up onto one of the filing cabinets… As if reading his thoughts, Mr Weasley quickly offers him his own seat at one of the desks. Harry feels a surge of irritation, because there’s no way he can accept the offer — the man needs to sit at his desk in order to do his job, after all — which means he’ll have to continue to stand up, while he waits for his dad… _I should have just gone to Grimmauld Place,_ he thinks surlishly. 

 

”I’m alright, thanks”, he tells Mr Weasley and moves to lean back against the wall next to the door. 

 

”You can have my seat”, Mr Perkins says, standing up on shaky legs again. 

 

”No, really—”

 

”I’ve got an errand. You can sit at my desk until I get back…”

 

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. ”All right, then… thanks…”

 

He sits down in the creaky chair and slouches over the desk, opening his magazine to the first page and begins to read the first article. He’s vaguely aware of Weasley Senior at the desk opposite him, shuffling papers around and reading a memo as it comes zooming into the office after a few minutes. The man sighs heavily as he puts the unfolded aeroplane aside. Harry glances up at him, but says nothing. 

 

Mr Weasley catches his eye and quickly gives him a reassuring smile, but it barely reaches his eyes this time. 

 

”So is that a monthly publication, _Snitch_?” Mr Weasley asks after a moment’s awkward silence. 

 

”Bi-monthly”, Harry replies curtly. 

 

”And is that what you want to do when you grow up? Play Quidditch professionally?”

 

”I dunno…” Harry mumbles. ”Haven’t really thought about it…”

 

”Ah, yes, Ron’s the same… it’s all fun and games still… but you’ve got your O.W.Ls this year”, Mr Weasley says knowingly. ”It’s all about to change now…”

 

”What are those?” Harry asks, nodding towards the now destroyed paper aeroplane. 

 

”Inter-Departmental memos”, Mr Weasley says. ”We used to use owls, but the mess was just not manageable…”

 

Harry nods, discreetly closing the magazine again when it looks like Mr Weasley won’t get back to work any time soon. They chat for a while, Mr Weasley telling Harry about a series of pranks targeted at muggles involving regurgitating toilets and Harry offering up his favourite school subjects, then politely smiling his thanks when the other man gives him some impromptu career advice. 

 

”Then of course, there’s curse-breaking. In fact, my son, Bill, could probably give you some insight — oh, here’s Sirius again!”

 

Harry turns around in his seat, relieved to see his dad come striding down the corridor towards the open door of the office. 

 

Sirius stops on the threshold and takes one look at Harry and Mr Weasley, as well as the closed copy of _Snitch_ lying forgotten under Harry’s fidgeting fingers and breaks out into a big grin.

 

”Having fun?” he asks Harry innocently, a tiny tic of a wink the only proof that he is teasing. 

 

”Oh, absolutely!” Mr Weasley says. ”That’s quite the bright young man you’ve got there, Sirius!”

 

”Oh, don’t I know it…” Sirius says, clamping a hand on Harry’s shoulder and giving him a small shake. 

 

”But, it’s a good thing you showed up, actually…” Mr Weasley continues, standing up. ”I’ve had a rather urgent memo that I really must see to…”

 

”Fine, we’ll get out of your hair”, Sirius says. ”Thanks again — oh, shhhh—oot”, he adds, doing a half-twirl and gazing back down the corridor. ”I’ve just realised — I — I’ve left something on my desk, I have to go back… but it will only take a minute!”

 

”I’m sorry, old chap”, Mr Weasley says. ”I really need to get going. If Perkins was here, you know — I don’t know where he’s got to…”

 

”Right…” Sirius mumbles. ”Of course, I understand — damn it!”

 

”I’m sure Harry can wait in the Atrium, if it’s only for a minute?”

 

”Yeah, we’ll… we’ll work something out, you go…”

 

”I’m afraid I’ve got to lock the office—”

 

”Oh!” Sirius says. ”Of course!” 

 

He and Harry hurry out of the office, then wave goodbye to Mr Weasley who hurries along the corridor and disappears out of sight. What’s so urgent about a regurgitating toilet, Harry doesn’t understand. Mr Weasley _had_ explained it to him (something about _please-men_ , whatever they are…) 

 

”Well, come on then…” Sirius says, clamping his hand down on Harry’s shoulder again and steers him towards the direction of the lift. 

 

”I can wait in the Atrium?”

 

”No…” Sirius mutters. 

 

”I can come with you?” Harry asks, hardly daring to believe it. 

 

Sirius says nothing for a long time, but finally shakes his head with a frustrated sigh and rubs at his own eyes rather aggressively. 

 

”You’ll have to”, he says finally. ”But you’ll have to wait outside while I run into the office…”

 

”Level nine: Department of Mysteries —”

 

”Can’t I see your office?” Harry asks in a small voice. 

 

”No, runt, you know no-one allowed inside… I’ll just be one second though!” Sirius says, shepherding him out of the lift and into a dark corridor with black-tiled walls. 

 

”One second, I promise!” Sirius adds before running off, his footsteps echoing eerily throughout the corridor.

 

” _Fine!_ ” Harry calls after him, then mutters to himself. ”I’ll just stand here and wait…”

 

 

 


	34. Death omens & Toads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "FINALLY!" you all holler at me (I can hear you, don't think I can't.)  
> Well. I'm sorry, all right? At least it's a longish one, so it should hold you a while.  
> ;)

Harry tears his half-hearted glare away from the door where his dad disappeared and falls back against the black-tiled wall of the corridor with a frustrated huff. 

 

He’s not _really_ angry with his dad for not letting him tag along to his office. Ever since he was a little boy, he’s known that his dad is an Unspeakable and therefore can’t tell him or Remus anything about his job, or he’ll be fired quicker than a hex in the cheering sections of a Tornados-Cannons match. If anything, Harry’s annoyed with himself for choosing to come along to the Ministry in the first place, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed into the Department of Mysteries anyway, so he’d be stuck waiting for his dad in some boring place (like Weasley Senior’s broom cupboard of an office or an even more boring corridor!)

 

But he’s always wanted to see what the Ministry of Magic looks like, ever since he was a little boy. It’s just one of those places that he’s heard so much about, from his dad in particular, that it’s sort of become like a place from a fairytale… but he should have known that that wouldn’t make it exciting in real life, but rather the opposite… and he’d been right. So far this whole experience has been decidedly underwhelming — 

 

Harry hears echoing footsteps approaching suddenly and looks up in time to see a man dressed in all black robes round the corner. At the sight of Harry he stops dead and for a second that spans at least an hour, Harry’s heart seems to have stopped as well. 

 

It takes his brain a fraction of a second to register the silky strands of blonde hair that fan out over the man’s shoulders and the widening pale blue eyes, and even less than that to flash back to the graveyard of his nightmares, which is where he stared into those eyes the last time… across the desecrated grave of Tom Riddle Senior, surrounded by jeering Death Eaters and watched by the Dark Lord himself… just before Lucius Malfoy raised his wand and fired the Cruciatus Curse at his heart — Harry feels like he’s back there now, tied to that tombstone and unable to move — he also feels like all his organs have suddenly been vanished and replaced by stones. 

 

Unable to tear his gaze away or do anything, Harry simply stares back. 

 

”Mr Potter…” Lucius murmurs softly, his face composed into a mask once more. 

 

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but his throat closes up before he can even draw a breath. 

 

The older man’s pale blue eyes narrow into slits before flitting away completely and then he pulls back slowly, before whirling around in a flurry of billowing robes and stalks back round the corner from which he’d appeared. 

 

The breath trapped inside Harry’s lungs leaves him again in a sudden rush and he collapses bonelessly against the wall. His heart is hammering wildly in his chest as if trying to catch up now that it can beat again and when he reaches up to wipe the layer of cold sweat from his face, he can see his hand is shaking. 

 

”See, what’d I tell you, one second—!” Sirius voice rings out in the eerie silence suddenly and Harry startles.

 

With considerable effort, he gets his legs to steady under him again and pushes away from the wall. Sirius  clamps a hand down on his shoulder and peers into his face. 

 

”Harry? Runt, what’s wrong?” 

 

”No- nothing…” he says. ”Can we go home now? Please?”

 

”You’re shaking! What’s—?”

 

” _Please, dad!_ I want to go home—!”

 

”Alright, alright”, Sirius says quickly, looping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. ”Let’s go home…”

 

They walk back to the lift, Harry’s heart pounding in trepidation the whole time, expecting to see Lucius Malfoy pop up behind every corner they pass, but he never does… Sirius keeps his arm wound around his shoulders tightly and Harry can _feel_ his worried glances every time, but pretends not to notice them at all. 

 

A pink paper aeroplane zooms into the lift and narrowly avoid crashing into Harry’s head. He swats it away in irritation. 

 

”Inter-Departmental—” Sirius starts to tell him. 

 

”I know”, Harry snaps.  

 

They ride up to the Atrium in tense silence after that. Harry looks over at the Arrivals’ Hall and remembers the floo fireplaces they’d walked past when they first arrived at the Ministry. Stomach already upset, Harry feels even less keen to Apparate home — but the thought of running into Lucius again is worse, so he stops dead and looks up at his dad with pleading eyes. 

 

”What?” Sirius says immediately, frowning with worry. ”What’s wr—?”

 

”Can we Apparate? Please?”

 

”Oh”, Sirius mumbles. ”Yeah, sure… hang on…”

 

Sirius scrambles for his wand and then tightens his arm around Harry’s shoulders again. Harry feels the wind knocked out of him for a second time, except now the pressure that hugs him from all sides and squeezes his lungs together continues even after there is no air left inside him… his eyeballs are pushed into his skull and his ribcage is squeezed together with such force he’s sure at least one rib will crack… 

 

Then just as suddenly as it started, the sensation stops again and he feels solid ground slam into his feet. His knees buckle and he goes limp in his dad’s half hug for a second, before he gets his legs under him again. His stomach flips over and nausea rushes through him like a sudden storm —

 

Pushing away from Sirius, Harry scrambles through the hallway and dives into the lavatory. He collapses on his knees in front of the toilet and wrenches the seat up just in time, before he loses his breakfast… hacking and coughing miserably into the bowl, Harry vows to never Apparate again — but if he’s completely honest with himself, given the chance to go back five minutes in time, he probably would have asked his dad to Apparate all over again… 

 

”You okay, runt?” Sirius asks from the doorway. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry gasps. 

 

He pushes to his feet again and quickly washes his face, then drinks some water straight from the running tap and by the time he turns around to face his dad, he actually _does_ feel okay again.

 

”Want to tell me what happened back there?” Sirius asks. 

 

Harry considers telling him. For a full three seconds he considers it. But in the end, he just shakes his head. Sirius’s frown deepens slightly and Harry suspects he’s thinking _he’d probably tell Remus if he was here —_ and the truth is, Harry probably would… but that’s just because Remus has this ability to get him to open up, about everything and anything, whether he wants to or not (really, he suspects there’s magic involved — or some kind of werewolf hypnosis, at least!) 

 

”I’m fine”, Harry assures his dad, and he means it. 

 

Sirius face smoothes out again and he nods, seemingly believing him. 

 

”Coffee?” 

 

Harry’s face breaks into a grin and he nods gratefully. They’re so alike, his dads, he thinks fondly. You wouldn’t think so — and they’re probably not even aware of it themselves, because in many ways they’re each others’ opposites, which is why they work so well together, Harry suspects — opposites attract, and all of that — but when you look a little closer, when you start noticing the little things… that’s when you realise just how alike they are… 

 

Harry follows Sirius out into the kitchen and takes his usual seat at the table while the other man makes the coffee, and just to keep the silence and the memory of Lucius at bay, Harry starts telling him about one of the articles he had time to read in _Snitch_ before Arthur Weasley distracted him. 

 

They stay in the kitchen and keep chatting well into the afternoon, cradling their empty coffee cups as they exchange Hogwarts stories and for the first time ever, Harry almost feels like an equal to his dad, not just his kid but an actual almost-adult person, talking like friends… it’s not until it’s time for Sirius to go get Remus that he realises they’ve completely forgotten about lunch. 

 

”Damn it…” he mutters, glaring at the wall clock as he places both their coffee cups in the sink to wash up later. ”Remus never would have forgotten lunch… aren’t you hungry?” he adds almost accusatory to Harry, who shrugs.

 

”A little, I guess…”

 

”Well, you should have said! I’ll make you something before I go —”

 

”Dad, you don’t have to”, Harry says and stands up as well. ”I’ll do it, just go get daddy…”

 

”Really?” Sirius says, looking uncertainly between Harry and the clock. 

 

” _Yes!_ Just go!”

 

”All right… see you in a bit!” Sirius says, striding round the table to give Harry a rather forceful peck on the forehead, before he quickly turns on the spot and Disapparates.

 

Huffing out a chuckle, Harry rubs his hand across his forehead and then walks over to the counter to prepare something to eat, but as he eyes the door to the pantry, a staggering lack of energy suddenly grips him and instead he retrieves his cup from the sink again and makes some more coffee, then turns a couple of slices of bread into toast with a simple heating charm and butters them. It’s enough to sustain him until his dads get back and Sirius can make them all supper, he reasons. 

 

Selina appears in the doorway, stretching her front paws out in front of her and then twitches her back paws slightly as she pads over to him and rubs up against his legs with a purr. 

 

”You hungry too?” he asks her around a mouthful of toast. 

 

”Meow…” 

 

”All right…” he mumbles and puts his coffee and toast down, so that he can refill her bowls.

 

”Meow… _meow_ …”

 

”Yeah, hang on, I’m doing it…”

 

” _Meow_ … MEOW—!”

 

”Yeah, all right already!” Harry exclaims, then places the refilled food bowl down in front of her and steps back again in anticipation. ” _There!_ Eat up!”

 

Selina promptly plops her bottom down and stares up at him with her most unimpressed look, blinking her narrowed eyes slowly. 

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

Selina says nothing, just blinks up at him again. 

 

”Go on, then… _eat!_ ”

 

With another withering stare, the cat stands up and then stalks back out of the kitchen. 

 

” _Hey!_ ” Harry calls after her. 

 

Shaking his head, Harry grabs his coffee cup and toast again and returns to the table. But as soon as his bottom hits the seat, he hears the _crack_ of Apparition from the hallway and immediately springs up again. 

 

”Daddy!” he calls out excitedly as he runs out of the kitchen. 

 

Remus is leaning heavily on Sirius and the lines on his pale, almost sallow face seem a little deeper than they were a few days ago, but when he sees Harry in the doorway, his eyes immediately light up and he returns his smile sincerely, if a little weakly. 

 

Harry immediately walks up to him and snuggles into his other side, transferring some of his weight from Sirius to himself and together the three of them walk into the lounge and collapse on the sofa. Sirius gently disentangles himself from his husband again and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing out into the kitchen to start supper.

 

”How was your weekend? Did you get up to any mischief?” Remus asks Harry once he’s settled against the cushions again and Harry simply smiles back, shaking his head. ”Like I’ll believe that…” 

 

”How are you feeling? Okay?”

 

”I’m fine…” Remus says, his smile softening. ”Ready to practise your Patronus?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says immediately, jumping back to his feet. 

 

He’s been thinking about what his daddy told him and realised it’s true, his mind has been flitting between happy memories without really settling on any one memory in particular. So now, he’s going to focus on just one particular memory… and if facing Voldemort in that graveyard is his scariest memory, then Harry figures the moment he was safe in his daddy’s arms again afterwards is a good place for him to start. 

 

He grips his wand tightly, then closes his eyes and concentrates… not just on the feeling of safety and relief, but also the _physical sensation_ of having Sirius’s fingers combing through his hair and Remus’s strong arms around his body, and of the _thud, thud, thud_ of their hearts beating together… he recalls the _scent_ of the man, which is a scent he’s grown up to associate with _home_ and _safe_ … he also recalls the other smells around him in that moment; the grass and soil of the Quidditch pitch, the hint of metallic in the damp evening air… 

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry focuses his every sense and lets the memory fill him up… 

 

”Expecto patronum…” he murmurs under his breath, just to get his tongue used to the words again, then takes another deep breath and opens his eyes with determination. ” _Expecto patronum… EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ”

 

He’s vaguely aware of his daddy letting out a _ha-haa_ of triumph and clapping his hands together, as streams of silvery light shoots out of his wand and feels his heart leap with joy and pride. The silvery substance doesn’t take form, but it lingers for a long time and appears a lot more solid than any of the feeble sparks Harry has managed in the past. 

 

Once it’s finally faded away, Remus claps his hands again. 

 

”Well done, Harry!” he exclaims happily. 

 

”Still not corporeal”, Harry says, even as he beams back at the other man. 

 

”No, but that was a massive improvement! I’m extremely proud of you!”

 

”Me too…” 

 

Harry whips his head around and sees Sirius lounging in the doorway, smiling at him. If possible, the grin on Harry’s face widens even further and he feels his cheeks heat with pleasure. 

 

”You’d have given James a run for his money”, Sirius says. ”And that is saying something!”

 

Not knowing what to say to that, Harry just keeps grinning and nods his thanks. 

 

Even though it’s a Dreamless night, Remus tucks Harry into bed and sits with him until he falls asleep and the last thing Harry is aware of before he slips into the comfortable darkness of unconsciousness, is the soothing rhythm of his daddy’s fingertips grazing his scalp. 

 

The next thing he knows, the darkness of his eyelids explodes into a fleshy orange and as he blinks them open, he’s immediately blinded by the bright sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. 

 

” _—lmost ten, rise and shine!_ ” Sirius calls from the kitchen. 

 

Harry arches his back in a languorous stretch and kicks his duvet off as a yawn slowly splits his face in two. He rubs his eyes thoroughly, before feeling around on the floor for his spectacles, knuckles bumping books and fingers getting tangled in dirty clothes. 

 

” _Harry! Did you hear me?_ ”

 

”Yeeees!” Harry shouts back, pushing himself up to sitting. 

 

” _Your coffee is getting cold—!_ ”

 

”I said, _yes!_ I’m coming!” he hollers, then grumbles to himself for a good five minutes, before he realises he’s still sitting on his bed, so technically his dad has a point.

 

With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles across the floor of his bedroom and out into the hall. 

 

Both his dads are sitting at the table and are almost finished with their breakfast when he staggers into the kitchen and collapses into his seat. He lets his drooping eyelids fall shut again and lets out another yawn, barely resisting the temptation to tilt his head and purr when he feels Remus’s fingers in his hair.

 

”Sleep well?” 

 

”Mmmmm…”

 

”Drink some coffee, you’ll feel better…” 

 

”Mm.” 

 

He hears his dad snort, but ignores him… _it’s too early… why am I awake this early, anyway?…_ glaring through his sleep-swollen eyes at Sirius, he opens his mouth to ask the question out loud, but is distracted by the worried glint in the man’s eye as he watches his husband discreetly. Harry follows his line of sight and registers the shadows under his daddy’s eyes and immediately feels his irritation subside again. 

 

”How’d you sleep, daddy?” he croaks. 

 

”Fine, cub… thank you…” the man says, smiling softly. 

 

Harry nods, not really believing it. But at least the man looks a little better than the night before. Not as well as he should be by now, but getting better, at least… Harry quickly drinks half his coffee in two eager gulps, determined to wake up properly, so that he can spend the morning with his dads. 

 

At lunchtime, Remus finally admits defeat and withdraws to the master bedroom for a nap, but not before giving Harry a massive hug and demanding he promise to stay out of trouble this year. Harry hugs him back just as hard and nods. 

 

”Promise, daddy…” he says, voice muffled as he’s got his face burrowed in the man’s chest. 

 

”Good boy…” Remus murmurs. 

 

Harry spends the afternoon cuddling with Selina, then starts packing his trunk at the last minute before Sirius comes to tell him it’s time to go. 

 

It’s already dark outside by the time they make their way across town towards Hogsmeade Station and the sky is covered by a blanket of clouds so thick that the waning moon’s light can’t penetrate it, but at least it’s not raining… _yet_ , Harry thinks, peering up at the sky and as if his thoughts have somehow triggered it, a light drizzle begins to fall just as he and Sirius reach the station. 

 

”How’s that for timing!” Sirius exclaims happily. 

 

Harry doesn’t answer, because he can already see the headlights of the approaching Hogwarts Express through the darkness and his stomach gives an excited jolt at the thought of seeing Draco and his friends again soon. 

 

”So do you want to wait for your friends outside or do you want to get into a carri- _Merlin’s beard!_ ” 

 

Harry wheels around to see what’s startled his dad and then instantly jumps back himself. With his heart thumping in fright, he stares at the beast harnessed to the nearest carriage. If hard-pressed, Harry guesses he’d have to call it a horse, or at least a horse-like creature, but something about the head reminds him of a dragon as well… it’s sleek black coat is stretched across the skeletal body, showing every single bone of the creature’s skeleton and from its back a couple of gigantic, leathery wings protrude. 

 

But what really gets the hairs on Harry’s arms to stand, is the eyes… the pupil-less and eeriely staring white eyes… 

 

”What… what are they?” Harry says, glancing at last from the beast and seeing a hundred others standing in front of the other carriages. 

 

”Thestrals”, Sirius says, sounding slightly winded. 

 

”Thestrals?”

 

”Yeah… I didn’t realise… I mean, I knew Hagrid bred them up at the Forest, but… it’s okay, they won’t harm you!”

 

”Are you sure?” Harry says, subconsciously inching a little closer to his dad as he stares into the white eye of the nearest one. 

 

”Yeah, positive”, Sirius says. ”They have a bad rep and you don’t want to get too close to a wild one, but these are domesticated, so you’re fine…”

 

”Domesticated… by Hagrid?” Harry asks carefully. 

 

Sirius lets out a snort of laughter and finally tears his eyes away from the thestral and smirks down at Harry. 

 

”I promise you, you’ll be fine.”

 

”If you say so…” Harry mutters, but again he’s distracted as the steam enginge pulls to a stop behind them and lets out a shrill whistle. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” they hear Draco shout over the ruckus of students getting off the train. 

 

”Over here!” Harry shouts back, waving his arm. 

 

They watch as the blonde and the other slytherins make their way — quite roughly — through the crowd and Harry beams as Draco darts forward and envelops him into a embrace that nearly lifts him off his feet. 

 

”Why didn’t you get the first carriage?” Blaise complains next to them and Harry laughs, finally letting go of Draco to give the other slytherin boy a quick hug as well. ”No, seriously, why are we standing next to the _very last_ carriage?”

 

”Hello to you too, Blaise”, Harry says good-naturedly, then moves on to hug the others. 

 

”Good evening, Mr Black”, he hears Draco say in his stilted _pureblood etiquette-voice_ , as Harry has come to think of it as, ignoring Sirius’s snort and ploughing on bravely. ”It’s a pleasure to see you again—”

 

”Oh, shut up”, Sirius says. ”How many times do I have to tell you to call me Sirius?”

 

”S-sorry, Sirius…” Draco mumbles. 

 

”That’s better… so you made Prefect, then? Congratulations.”

 

Harry blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the Prefect badge on the blonde’s chest, but now that it’s been pointed out to him, he’s not sure how he could have ever missed it — it’s practically shining in the darkness — and a matching badge is shining on Pansy’s robe front, as well. 

 

”Harry, I’m going to head back”, Sirius says after a moment, as Harry has just finished giving Daphne a quick hug and he hurries back over to him and lets the man envelop him in his larger arms and squeeze him tightly, nodding when he mutters, ”Be good this year, Harry. You know your daddy worries about you…”

 

”Yeah, I know… I promise I’ll stay out of trouble!”

 

”That’s a good boy…” 

 

Sirius steps back and ruffles Harry’s hair quickly, before Harry skips out of reach. 

 

”See you at Christmas — and _not before!_ ” Sirius says in a mock-serious voice. 

 

”I said _I promise!_ ”

 

”All right then…”

 

Harry gives the man a wry smile and waves back as he holds up one hand in a parting gesture, before turning on the spot and Disapparating. 

 

Draco immediately grabs Harry’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Harry tilts his head back and looks up at him, his smile wavering as it suddenly strikes him how much the blonde has grown over the summer. 

 

”Don’t start”, Draco mutters, seemingly reading his mind and quickly ducks his head plant a kiss on Harry’s lips. ”Now, come on… I’m starving!”

 

Pulling on Harry’s hand, he leads the way to the carriage, shoving a few third-years out of the way in the process.

 

”Hey, have you seen the thestrals?” Harry asks as he steps inside the carriage and takes the seat next to the other boy. 

 

”What’s that?” Draco asks, looping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulling him even closer to his side. 

 

”Er…” Harry blinks up at him, feeling his cheeks flush. ”The ehm… er… thestrals?”

 

”What’s a thestral?” Seamus asks from where he’s squeezed in on Harry’s other side. 

 

”They’re a death omen”, Blaise says, squeezed in-between Pansy and Daphne in the seat across from them. ”They look like winged horses.”

 

”What?” Harry says, whipping his head around. ” _Death omen?_ ”

 

”Yeah, I mean, if you believe that stuff… why? Did you see one?”

 

”Er… yeah?”

 

”What?” Draco says sharply. 

 

”You did?” Blaise says, his smirk falling. 

 

Harry blinks, looking between his friends shocked faces. 

 

”You’re taking the mickey, right?” he says after a moment and they all shake their heads. 

 

”Where did you see it?” Draco demands.

 

”You’re having me on?”

 

” _No!_ Where did you see—?”

 

”Outside — just now!” Harry exclaims. ”It’s pulling the carriage!”

 

A stunned silence falls inside the carriage, and then as one, all of Harry’s friends begin to snicker and shake their heads. 

 

”Bastard…” Draco mutter and steals another kiss from him. 

 

”Don’t joke about stuff like that!” Daphne squeals with a shudder.

 

”You really had me…” Blaise admits.

 

”No, I’m serious!” Harry says, shoving Draco back again. ”My dad told me it’s called a thestral and yeah, it kind of looks like a winged horse, and I’d never even heard of them before—”

 

”Harry, stop it, it’s not funny!” Draco says, pulling his arm away and frowning at him. 

 

”—and there are about a hundred of them outside — I’m not trying to be funny! I’m telling the truth!”

 

”Well, it’s good to be back…” Blaise mutters. 

 

”Five minutes, that’s a record”, Pansy says drily. 

 

”Fine”, Harry snaps. ”Don’t believe me! I don’t know anything about a death omen, but my dad said Hagrid’s been breeding them in the Forest and they’re harmless!”

 

”But Harry…” Seamus says reasonably. ”How come only you can see them, then?”

 

”No, hang on…” Blaise murmurs, gazing at Harry with calculating eyes. ”Thestrals are invisible to most people… the only ones who can actually see them are people who have seen death…”

 

”R- really…?” Harry says. 

 

”Yeah… which is probably how the whole death omen superstition got created in the first place…”

 

”And they’re not the prettiest of creatures either…” Harry mumbles, remembering the skeletal black body and the eerie eyes. 

 

”Why is it never easy eith you?” Draco demands suddenly, glaring at Harry.

 

”What?” Harry says. ”It’s not _my_ fault—!”

 

”Why can’t we just sit down like normal teenagers and talk about quidditch and — and — _opera!_ Why does it always have to be something grim and—?”

 

” _Opera?_ ” Harry splutters. 

 

”—and foreboding and — yes, _opera!_ — I’ve just had a stressful summer holidaying with my mother and I would very much like to sit down and relax and have a normal conversation about _Tristan and Isolde_ , without having to worry about you dying! _But no—!_ ”

 

”What teenagers talk about opera—?” 

 

”I ALWAYS HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YOU DYING!” Draco exclaims shrilly. 

 

”I’M NOT GOING TO DIE!” Harry hollers right back. 

 

”Who are Tristan and Isolde?” Seamus asks the others in an undertone, but they just roll their eyes at him and sigh. ”What?”

 

”It’s called culture, dorcus…” Daphne says in a long-suffering voice. 

 

As their carriage comes to a shuddering stop below the stairs leading up the front doors of Hogwarts, the drizzle has turned to a proper downpour and the Slytherin friends sprints up the stone steps to avoid the worst of it. Harry skids along the polished stone floor of the Entrance Hall and nearly falls, but Draco catches him and helps steady him. 

 

He then gives Harry’s hand a final squeeze, before letting go of him, but stays really close to his side the whole way across the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall, so close in fact that their shoulders keep bumping together and more than once Harry feels the other boy’s fingers brush the inside of his palm before flitting away again. It’s maddening in all the right ways and by the time they’re sitting down next to each other at the Slytherin table, Harry feels like fire has replaced the blood in his veins. 

 

As they settle into their seats, the blonde immediately knocks his knee into Harry’s under the table. Harry looks up at him, trying to catch his eye or at least read his expression but the other boy is staring up at the Head Table.

 

A side door opens and a an old witch with neatly cropped grey curls under her moss green hat bustles through it and takes the free seat at the end of the Head Table, next to Professor Vector. 

 

”Look, it’s that Professor Grubbly-Plank”, Pansy hisses, leaning slightly across the table to squint at Harry and Draco with shining eyes. ”You think they’ve finally got rid of that giant oaf?”

 

”Maybe…” Draco says, looking quite pleased at the thought. 

 

”Who’s that sitting next to Flit—?” Daphne starts to speak until her voice is suddenly drowned out by what sounds like a stampeding herd of hippogriffs, but turns out to be the First Years, lead by Professor McGonagall. 

 

Harry can see who she was referring to though. After all, there’s only one unfamiliar face sitting at the Head Table and he can also see why Daphne’s nose had been scrunched up, because even Harry, with his limited understanding of fashion, can tell that the pink cardigan stretched around the plump body of the middle-aged witch is ghastly, as is the Alice-band in matching pink stretched across her mousey hair.

 

”Where did she get that jumper?” Pansy says drily, giving the new teacher her most scathing look. 

 

”Same charity shop where she dug that Alice-band out of the bargain bin, I should think…” Daphne mutters. 

 

”Are we sure it’s a she?” Blaise drawls. ”Don’t let the pink fool you…”

 

”Hardly a he”, Seamus counters. 

 

Blaise lets out a non-commital _hmphs_ , ”There’s something quite amphibian about her. You know. She might be half- _toad_ …”

 

A burst of snickers explode along the Slytherin table and Professor Snape’s black eyes immediately dart over to them with a warning glare. They quickly hide their smiles behind their hands and carefully avoid eye-contact with each other for a good five minutes, while they fight the urge to break down in giggles again. 

 

By the time they’ve got their amusement back under control, the Sorting Hat has started singing and Harry feels familiar fingers slide on top of his knee under the table and almost jumps out of his skin, letting out another string of curses under his breath.

 

”Shhhh…” Draco admonishes with a smirk. ”I’m trying to listen…”

 

Harry shoots him a half-hearted glare and feels the fingers slide a little further up his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze, just ast the smirk on his face twitches. 

 

 _Merlin, I’ve missed you,_ Harry doesn’t say. But he sneaks his hand under the table and grabs the fingers before they can venture any further up his leg and put him in a _very_ awkward position _indeed_ , then interlaces them with his own. 

 

_”… for our Hogwarts is in danger, from external, deadly foes…”_

 

Harry blinks, then tears his eyes away from Draco’s silvery orbs and looks over at the Sorting Hat as it continues belting out what can only be described as a lament. 

 

_”… and we must unite inside her, or we’ll crumble from within…”_

 

He feels Draco’s fingers tighten around his, and squeezes back. 

 

_”… I have told you, I have warned you… Let the Sorting now begin!”_

 

The Hat falls silent at last and stills as applause breaks out across the Great Hall. Reluctantly, Harry lets go of Draco’s hand and joins in with the clapping. 

 

”That was very poignant…” Pansy comments idly, as she claps her hands together slowly a couple of times. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry says, feeling dread pool in his stomach. 

 

_Wonder if the Sorting Hat has ever warned the school before?_

 

”Stop it…” Draco mutters, his nose bumping against Harry’s cheek bone. 

 

”Stop what?” Harry asks, frowning at him. 

 

”I can see the wheels turning in your head.”

 

”So what? I should stop _thinking,_ should I—?”

 

”Yes”, Draco says immediately. ”At once, please.”

 

”Hey…” Harry protests, turning slightly on the bench so that he can face the other boy and his smirking face full on. ”What exactly are you saying? You’d prefer me to not have a mind of my own?”

 

”I’d _prefer it_ if you stopped coming up with idiotic and reckless ideas that will get you _killed,_ yes.”

 

”I wasn’t even—!”

 

”And knowing you for as long as I have”, Draco interrupts swiftly. ”And as intimately as I do—”

 

Harry feels his cheeks flush again, especially when Seamus and Blaise both mutter, ” _Too much information…_ ”

 

”—statistically, I’d say one in every ten or so thoughts that pop up in that frankly Gryffindorkish head of yours, are just… that… sort… of… idea… so on the whole, I’d say it’d be better for everyone if you did less thinking overall, yes.”

 

”Prat…” Harry mumbles, knocking his knee against the other boy’s under the table. 

 

”It’s just a _hat,_ what does it know about anything, anyway”, Draco says. ”Don’t get your pretty little head all hot and bothered over a stupid Sorting song…”

 

”Don’t call me little”, Harry grouses. 

 

Draco’s smirk twitches again.

 

”Sorry…” he says, sounding and looking anything but.

 

As the last of the first-years get Sorted (a timid-looking girl by the name of Zeller, sent to Hufflepuff), Professor Dumbledore stands up to greet them all, his arms stretched as wide as his smile and the embroidered stars and moons on his sleeves glittering in the candle light. 

 

”There is a time for speechmaking — but this is not it”, he says warmly. ”Tuck in!”

 

The Great Hall explodes in relieved applause and giggles, just as the tables are magically filled with steaming hot meals. Harry’s stomach growls at the sight and smell of home-cooked food and he eagerly starts to fill his plate. 

 

Draco is now sitting so close to him on the bench that he accidentally elbows him in the chest while cutting into his steak and kidney pie.

 

”Sorry”, he mumbles. 

 

”…’s okay”, Draco murmurs, his breath ghosting over Harry’s cheek and Harry immediately feels warmth pool in his sternum and shifts a little awkwardly on the bench.

 

By the time they’ve all scraped their plates clean of pudding, the noise of chatter around the Great Hall dies down again and they all turn their heads to see Professor Dumbledore standing, ready to make his speech at last. 

 

Draco leans in even closer to Harry, his lips brushing the shell of his ear as he whispers, ”Hope the old coot keeps it short, ’cause I can’t wait to get to bed…”

 

Harry swallows thickly. 

 

”Y-yeah?” he croaks, then discreetly clears his throat and peers up into Draco’s face. ”Tired?”

 

Draco’s eyes twinkle at him. 

 

”No…”

 

Harry feels his cheeks heat up (which is amazing, really, considering most of the blood in his body seems to be rushing _elsewhere_ …) and he quickly ducks his head to hide it, muttering a curse under his breath. 

 

”I hope you’ve been practising your Silencing Charms”, Blaise says pointedly from across the table, just loud enough for Harry and Draco to hear.

 

”And deprive you of your _only_ source of sexual entertainment”, Draco says quietly and Harry can _hear_ the smirk in his voice. ”What kind of friends would we be…” 

 

Blaise snorts softly, ”My only source… oh, if only you knew…”

 

”You keep insinuating, Zabini, but I’ve yet to see _any_ tangible proof…”

 

”That’s because gentlemen don’t kiss and tell”, Blaise counters smoothly. ”And before you say it — I’m not talking about _me_ , I’m talking about my partners!”

 

”Partners, now, is it? As in plural?” Pansy cuts in curiously, batting her magicked lashes at the boy. ”And are they all gentle _men_ or do you dabble in the fairer sex as well, Blaisey-boy?”

 

”Occasionally…” he says, giving the girl his most wicked smirk. 

 

”Good to know…” she murmurs. 

 

”… and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too!” Dumbledore says a little louder. 

 

Harry and his friends instantly fall silent and turn to give the Headmaster their full attention, just in time to see his pale blue eyes flit away from their group and gaze out across the middle if the Hall again. 

 

”… that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden for students when unaccompanied by a teacher. And on a similar note, Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch’s office door… we have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons—”

 

The Slytherins all exchange delighted looks. That definitely sounded like she’d taken the position permanently!

 

”—We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

 

There is a smatter of unenthusiastic applause across the hall. 

 

”Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the…” Dumbledore suddenly trails off and looks over at the new DADA teacher with a look of mild surprise on his face. 

 

” _Hem, hem…_ ” the woman coughs gently and it’s only then that Harry realises she’s actually stood up to make a speech, but being as short as she is, she’s hardly any taller standing up than she’d been sitting down, which is why Harry hadn’t realised it immediately. 

 

Professor Dumbledore seems to have come to the same conclusion, because he quickly sits back down and continues to watch the woman with a politely interested look on his face. The other professors are not as polite, Harry can see. McGongall’s lips are pressed so thin they’re hardly visible at all and Snape is glaring with such vehemence at his water goblet, Harry is surprised it hasn’t cracked yet… 

 

”Thank you, Headmaster”, the toad-woman says in a simpering, high-pitched voice that makes the hairs in the back of Harry’s neck stand. ”for those kind words of welcome… _hem, hem_ … well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

 

She bares her pointed teeth in a smile and Harry shivers. 

 

”I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” 

 

With another cough, she continues what sounds like a well-rehearsed speech about the traditions of Hogwarts and upholding the ideals of all of their ancestors, while pruning and perfecting practises where possible, and other such ’tosh’ as Pansy calls it. 

 

Harry tunes most of it out, and keenly aware as he is, of every part of Draco that is pressed against him, he lets his mind wander to more pleasant things… throughout the summer, he’s been flicking through the book Remus gave him about wizard sex, lingering on chapter two more and more, fantasising about kissing his way down Draco’s body… tonguing his straining cock through his boxer briefs… pulling them down… 

 

Shifting awkwardly on the bench, Harry quickly bats the images away and focuses on the new DADA teacher again, just as she rounds up her speech and sits back down. 

 

Professor Dumbledore claps his hands, creating a sort of ripple effect of applause all along the Head Table, but none as polite and enthusiastic as Dumbledore. In fact, Professor Snape only lets the palms of his hands touch twice before he promptly places them on either side of his plate again. 

 

”Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating”, Professsor Dumbledore says with a slight incline of his head in the witch’s direction, before turning back to the student body. ”As I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…”

 

As Professor Dumbledore finishes up his speech and sends them all off to bed, Pansy squints down the table at the frightened-looking first-years and sighs. 

 

”I suppose we’ll have to deal with that lot now, Draco…”

 

”Yeah”, Draco mutters, squaring his shoulders as he stands up. ” _First years!_ ”

 

The whole lot of them jump and whip their heads around to stare at him, their eyes round as saucers. 

 

” _Gather round, please!_ ” Draco continues matter-of-factly. ”Now, _let’s go!_ Hurry up, please!”

 

As he and Pansy waits for the First Years to scramble about and trip and stumble down the length of the table, Draco leans down and whispers in Harry’s ear, ”I’ll just be a moment… try not to fall asleep?”

 

Harry swallows thickly and, not quite trusting his own voice to behave as it should, nods quickly. 

 

”Good boy…” Draco murmurs with a smirk. 

 

Harry gives him a half-hearted glare, but feels his entire face immediately flush hotly which undermines the glare significantly. He climbs to his feet, extra careful not to trip over his own feet, well aware of Draco and at least half a dozen First Years watching him with great interest… he quickly side-steps one of them and joins his other friends at the end of the table, then amble after the newly appointed Head Boy and Girl, Roy Gamp and Zoe Accrington, towards the dungeons. 

 

Once inside the Slytherin Common Room, the boys wave goodbye to Daphne before filing inside their new dormitory and start unpacking their trunks and decorating the walls above their four-poster beds. All the boys except for Blaise have chosen to advertise their favourite Quidditch teams and Seamus has also chosen to pin a muggle poster of his favourite muggle Quidditch team (Actually, the sport is called something different, Harry knows. But he can never remember if it’s _Bugry_ or _Rugbyd_ , but it’s something like that…) next to his Kestrels poster. 

 

Blaise, on the other hand, who’s never really been into sports, has gone for posters featuring two of his favourite musical groups, Spellbound and The Rhythmic Runes, as well as a family photograph. 

 

Harry, too, has pinned a photograph of himself and his dads next to his Tornados poster, as well as the handmade Christmas card Draco sent him back in First Year. What he would really like to have pinned on the wall is one of the many beautiful drawings Draco has made him, but he doesn’t want to tear any of them out of the leather bound book.

 

They’re all idly getting ready for bed when Seamus tells them that his mum almost wouldn’t let him come back to Hogwarts this year, because of everything the _Prophet_ has been saying about Dumbledore ( _and you_ , he doesn’t tell Harry, but Harry hears it anyway.)

 

”Well, she’ll learn the truth soon enough… they all will…” Harry says grimly. 

 

The others nod, exchanging uncomfortable looks and a tense silence falls inside the door. It’s almost immediately broken however, when the door flies open and Draco struts inside. The Prefect badge on his chest is shining more than ever in the pale green light from the lanterns and Harry feels a surge of pride as he looks at him. 

 

The blonde meets his eyes and the smirk on his face instantly softens to a small smile — _it makes all the difference,_ Harry thinks. Being on the receiving end of a smile like that, it’s so easy to tell Draco apart from his father. Harry vows to himself to give the other boy ample reason to keep smiling like that, anything to disassociate him from Malfoy Senior and his aristocratic arrogance. 

 

”Oh, I almost forgot… Blaise, you’re going to love me…” Seamus says suddenly, digging up a Wireless Radio from his trunk. 

 

”Doubt it”, Blaise mutters, but his eyes glitter with interest when he sees the radio. 

 

”Me mam showed me that if you tune it a certain way, you can listen to some muggle channels”, Seamus says excitedly. ”They have so many musical groups and artists, you won’t even believe… like hundreds of them!”

 

”Yeah, but… it will be muggle music though”, Draco says, lips curling with distaste. 

 

”Have you ever even heard muggle music?” Harry asks him pointedly and gives his side a gentle jab. 

 

”Well, no, but… surely, if it was any good, the WWN would play it too?” Draco counters. 

 

”Oh, it’s good” Seamus says. ”There’s this one group called _Nirvana_ that I’ve been listening to all summer, the singer died last spring so the radio keeps playing their greatest hits… there’s this one song called _Come As You Are_ that is amazing… if I can just tune this right…” he adds, frowning with concentration as he fiddles with the knobs on the radio. 

 

Snippets of The Weird Sisters and Celestina Warbeck can be distinguised from the static noise of the wireless as the Irish boy continues to tune it, but finally he manages to find a muggle station and music such as Harry has never heard before suddenly fills the dorm… cringing back slightly, he frowns at the wireless, trying to determine what he thinks about it… it doesn’t even sound like musical instruments at all, at least not any type of instruments found in the magical world, rather random noises and really weird singing voices that are both whiny and disorted… and the baseline seems to be made up of hand claps.

 

The lyrics are no less weird, from what he can make out — admittedly, he can only decipher a word here and there in the verse, but as soon as the chorus starts, one or two of the singers whine _”Everybody groove to the music”_ while another singer is going on about something completely different (what, Harry can’t tell, but they do urge _”everybody”_ to _”come on now”_ , so at least it’s in the same spirit as the main message of the song.) 

 

”Please, turn it off…” Draco says after another moment. 

 

Seamus quickly turns a knob and the wireless goes silent again. He looks a little sheepish and his cheeks are flushed pink. 

 

”It’s usually not that bad…” he mumbles. 

 

”We’ll take your word for it”, Draco says drily. ”I’m going to go get ready for bed…”

 

”That other group you were talking about, Nirvana, is their music similar to that?” Harry asks curiously.

 

”No!” Seamus says immediately. ”I’m telling you, it’s awesome! Nothing like _that_ …”

 

”They should come up with a way to choose what music you want to play…” Blaise says thoughtfully. ”You know, you should be able to, I dunno, tap the wireless with your wand and select what type of music you want to listen to!”

 

”Yeah… but then how would you discover new groups and artists?” Theo says. 

 

”Well, you don’t _have to_ select something”, Blaise counters. ”But it would be cool to have the option, you know?”

 

Draco returns to the dorm again, putting away his neatly folded towel and pink and silver toiletry bag, before carefully unpinning the Prefect badge from his school robes and placing it on top of his bedside table. Harry watches him silently, feeling a surge of flutters in his stomach as he remembers Draco addressing the First Years with authority. 

 

Letting his mind wander for a moment, he imagines the blonde patrolling the corridors and dishing out detentions in his strictest Prefect’s voice… 

 

Draco looks up and meets his eyes, raising his eyebrows. Harry blinks and quickly looks away again, digging through his trunk for his own toiletry bag and a towel, keenly aware of the the blonde’s eyes still on him as he does. As his cheeks begin to heat up, he ducks his head and more or less flees the dormitory, mumbling about brushing his teeth. 

 

The Slytherin boys’s bathroom is empty when Harry gets there and he allows himself to get lost in thought while he brushes his teeth carefully and thoroughly, and for a much longer time than he normally does, his heart thudding hard in his chest as he tries not to let his mind flash to the illustrations of his Sexual Handbook (and failing remarkably, as usual…) 

 

Spitting toothpaste into the sink with a lot more force than strictly necessary, Harry glares at his own reflection. 

 

”Get a grip!” he tells himself sternly. 

 

The mirror snickers.

 

When he returns to the dorm, the others have all gone to bed and Harry feels torn between relief and disappointment as he looks at the drawn hangings around Draco’s four-poster. 

 

He walks over to his own bed and starts removing his school robes carefully, mindful of not making any noise. 

 

”Finally…” a voice whispers behind him. 

 

Harry jumps and spins around, heart hammering in his throat as his gaze flickers through the gloom and finally finding Draco’s blonde head sticking out through a small gap in the hangings of Harry’s own four-poster. 

 

Harry releases his breath with a whoosh, throwing the other boy a half-hearted glare. 

 

”Sorry…” the blonde whispers, smirking unrepentantly at him before disappearing back behind the drawn hangings of the bed again. 

 

Harry hurriedly steps out of his trousers and pulls on his pyjamas with trembling hands, then almost trips over his discarded robes in his haste to join the other boy. 

 

He tumbles through the hangings and scrambles to sit next to the other boy, who’s waiting patiently for him, back leaned against the headboard and eyebrow delicately raised as Harry kicks the hangings off when they get twisted round his leg.

 

”Stupid things”, he mutters under his breath. 

 

”What took you so long?” Draco asks, grabbing his wand and casting a quick Silencing Charm around them. 

 

Harry’s stomach flutters as his mind flashes back to dinner in the Great Hall when the blonde had leaned in to whisper in his ear… implying that he wanted — well, wanted _Harry_ , wanted to have _sex_ with him — _I can’t wait to get to bed,_ he’d whispered, eyes shining with suggestion… and Blaise making a comment about Silencing Charms, in case they’d be — _what, loud?_ Harry thinks hysterically and his stomach flips over entirely at the implication — he takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but there’s no calming the butterflies in his stomach or slowing the beats of his heart, it seems. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Draco asks, frowning slightly at him. 

 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Just… no, nothing…”

 

Draco eyebrows twitch slightly and his eyes shutter immediately, but as soon as Harry brushes his fingers over his hand, they flare up with hope and want again. Harry smiles nervously. 

 

”I missed you… like… _a lot…_ ” he says. 

 

”Good…” Draco murmurs with a smirk and leans in to brush his lips over Harry’s. ”Missed you too, you know…”

 

”Yeah?” Harry croaks, wetting his lips in anticipation. 

 

”Yeah…”

 

Harry’s fingers twitch over Draco’s bare skin as he trails his hands up the other boy’s arm, before grabbing his shoulder and pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. 

 

Draco eagerly moves to sit in front of Harry instead, kneeling astride his lap and pushing him back against the pillows, while lapping at his lips like a starving kitten. Harry fists the material of Draco’s pyjama top and pulls him closer still, but the blonde quickly breaks the kiss and mutters something about _changeant,_ before sitting back. 

 

”What?” Harry mumbles, as much confused about what the blonde has said as he is at the sudden space between them. 

 

He reaches out for the other boy again impatiently, only to have his hands batted away. 

 

”Shot silk”, Draco says, as if that would make things clearer, then carefully pulls his pyjama top over his head. 

 

” _What?_ ” Harry says again, his confusion shooting to hitherto unexplored heights and flirting with frustration as Draco is still. _so. far. away —_

 

”The top”, Draco says, rolling his eyes and waving the now neatly folded pyjama top in front of Harry’s face before leaning to the side and gently putting it down on the floor next to the bed. ”It’s made from shot silk, or changeant, also known as changable silk—”

 

”Are you seriously talking about _fabric?_ ” Harry says. ” _Now?_ ”

 

Draco sits back up and raises an eyebrow at Harry. 

 

”It’s very delicate and you were about to rip—”

 

”Shut up”, Harry says and nestles his fingers in the other boy’s blonde hair and pulls him down for another deep kiss. 

 

Draco lets out a noise of protest, but it quickly morphs into a moan and he wraps his arms around Harry and melts into him. Harry feels the tickling warmth of arousal pool in his sternum as the other boy rolls his hips, smoothly pushing their crotches together. 

 

Wrenching his mouth away from Draco’s, Harry gasps as he feels the unmistakable hardness that rubs against his own. 

 

”I want to see you”, he says. ”Please?”

 

”Okay…” Draco says quickly, his voice breathless and trembling slightly. ”You too…”

 

Nodding eagerly, Harry starts pulling on the drawstring of his pyjama bottoms with shaky fingers. Draco unstraddles him and scrambles to the foot of the bed to give himself room to pull his bottoms down his long legs and then quickly folds them up — not nearly as neatly as he’d folded the top, Harry notices with a sense of triumph — and drops them to the floor next to the bed, before kneeling in front of Harry again, reaching for him eagerly. 

 

Harry leans in to kiss the blonde again, but glances at his crotch and does a double-take.

 

”I don’t believe it, you’re even bigger — do you ever stop growing—?” he blurts out. 

 

The blonde jerks back in surprise and frowns at him. Harry bites his lip and looks down, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 

 

”Are you complaining?” the other boy says archly.

 

”No”, Harry says hurriedly, pulling his knees up and unconsciously curls in on himself.  ”No, no, but — it’s just — I’m starting to feel a bit — you know, small—”

 

Draco huffs, ”You’re not _small,_ Harry.”

 

”It’s bad enough that I’m short, why do I have to be smaller as well”, Harry mumbles, looking away. 

 

”You’re not small”, Draco repeats firmly. ”You’re actually thicker than I am.”

 

 

Harry’s cheeks heat up further. 

 

”Barely”, he mutters. ”Besides, who cares—”

 

”Eh, excuse me, I believe it’s my opinion that counts”, Draco says, sitting back on his heels. 

 

Harry just makes a face, but doesn’t say anything else. Draco’s arched eyebrow twitches. 

 

”Seriously, will you let it go…” he says finally. 

 

”I didn’t say anything”, Harry mutters, still avoiding the other boy’s eyes. 

 

”The difference is barely noticeable! How are we even having this conversation?”

 

 

”Again, I didn’t say anything —”

 

”Your face said plenty!”

 

”My _face_ —?”

 

”Do you want me to go back to my own bed? Because I will—”

 

”No, no…” Harry mumbles. ”I want you to—”

 

”What’s that?” Draco cuts in sharply. 

 

”I said I want you t—”

 

”You _want_ me?” Draco interrupts again.

 

Harry stares at him. 

 

”Because I’m not feeling very wanted right now”, Draco adds pointedly.

 

”Don’t be stupid—”

 

”Stupid too now, am I?”

 

”Oh, come on!” Harry splutters. ”The whole reason I’m feeling inadequate over here is because you are so damn _perfect_ … just… come here…” he sighs and stretches his legs out again before reaching for the other boy.

 

”That’s better…” the blonde murmurs and crawls up Harry’s body with feline-like grace. 

 

He smirks playfully against Harry’s lips before sealing their mouths together in a deep kiss that steals Harry’s breath away, along with the last of his reluctance and insecurity. 

 

”But just to be clear”, Draco adds in a husky undertone once they both come up for air again. ”It’s the perfect size and so’s the rest of you.”

 

Harry swallows thickly and nods. He might not have conquered all of his insecurities yet, but there is no way Draco could possibly fake those blown pupils, so at least for now Harry knows that the blonde means what he says, even if Harry himself might not agree with him… _but, as Draco pointed out, it’s really_ his _opinion that matters, isn’t it?_

 

The smirk on the blonde’s face softens and he leans in to capture Harry’s lips again, softer this time but no less urgent. Harry eagerly kisses back and clutches the other boy’s shoulders as he’s gently guided to lie back. 

 

If Harry had had any intention of broaching the subject of so-called blowjobs tonight, it quickly goes out the window as his and Draco’s kiss turns heated and desperate and the blonde’s hands suddenly seem to be everywhere at once, because there’s no way he is going to last long enough for Draco to so much as ghost his breath over his crotch, let alone engulp him… _but that’s okay_ , Harry muses later as he lies curled around the other boy’s body and catching his breath. _I’ll need some time to come up with exactly what to say, anyway… and build up the courage to say it…_

”Love you…” Draco mumbles sleepily, before his breath begins to even out with sleep. 

 

Harry smiles against the other boy’s smooth chest and snuggles a little closer. I bet I could produce a perfect Patronus right now, he thinks happily and lets his eyes flutter closed… perfect… like this moment… just per—

 

Harry startles awake, his scar hurting and hair plastered to his clammy forhead. The damp blanket is clinging to his sweat-soaked skin and Draco’s arms are wrapped tightly around him, one hand caressing his head almost mechanically as he hushes him gently. It’s only then that Harry realises his throat is sore from screaming.

 

”I-I’m s-sorry I woke you up…” he gasps. 

 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco says firmly and shoves his face against Harry’s cheek, kissing his jaw.

 

”It’s a nightmare night… s-sorry, I should have said…”

 

”What?” Draco mumbles, still petting his wet hair. 

 

”I can only drink Dreamless Sleep every third night, the other two I have to… you know…”

 

”I’m so sorry, Harry—”

 

”It’s okay”, Harry says quickly. ”I’m sorry I forgot, but tomorrow I get to drink the potion, so we can… we can sleep together then, if you want, that is…”

 

”We can sleep together now”, Draco counters and gives him another kiss on the jaw. 

 

”No, Draco…” Harry mumbles, pulling away from the other boy’s embrace. ”Just go to your own bed. There’s no reason for both of us losing sleep…”

 

”Are you serious?” Draco says in surprise. ”You’re kicking me out of bed?”

 

”I don’t want to wake you again…” Harry mutters, embarrassed. 

 

”What if I want to take care of you—?”

 

”I don’t need taking care of”, Harry insists. ”Just… I’m sorry I woke you—”

 

”Harry…”

 

”— tomorrow will be different, I promise. Please.”

 

”I’ll go if you really want me to”, Draco says quietly. ”But I really rather stay…”

 

Harry sighs. He’ll feel awful either way, he decides. If he makes Draco go sleep in his own bed after they’ve been intimte with each other for the first time in what’s felt like a lifetime, or if Draco stays and he has another nightmare and wakes him up for a second time. 

 

So, Harry thinks, a little selfishly. If I’m going to feel awful anyway, might as well let Draco stay and at least enjoy a bit of a cuddle.

 

”Okay…” he says. ”But if I start thrashing around again, just leave me.”

 

”Yeah”, Draco says sarcastically and Harry can picture him rolling his eyes. ”That’s what I’ll do… dork, just come back here…”

 

With another sigh, Harry settles back into Draco’s arms.

 

 

*

 

 

As they trundle into the Great Hall the next morning for breakfast, the Enchanted Ceiling is a gloomy grey and flickering sligthly as sparse raindrops fall from the blanket of clouds and then fade into nothingness just above their heads. 

 

Harry feels the familiar heaviness of insomnia weighing him down and glances over at Draco to try and determine if he’s feeling the effects of the previous night as well, knowing he can’t have got much more sleep than Harry, due to his restless movements and cries… but if the blonde feels exhausted, he hides it well. If anything, he looks positively energised, smiling openly as he chatters away with the girls and makes them collapse into peels of giggles with his snide remarks and, admittedly spot-on, imitations of various Gryffindors. 

 

Harry watches him fondly and chuckles tiredly as makes another hilarious observation that has Pansy snorting with laughter and Daphne clutching her sides. Their laughter finally dies down as Professor Snape comes striding down the length of the Slytherin table, handing out their timetables with a stern look on his face. 

 

Harry lets his tired smile linger as he accepts his timetable and thanks the Potions Master softly. Snape’s frown seems to twitch slightly, before he gives Harry a curt nod and quickly moves on. 

 

 _Wonder if that was him smiling_ , Harry thinks and watches the man’s retreating back in amusement — it’s short-lived though, because as soon as he glances down at the timetable and realises what a day he has ahead of him, Harry feels anything but amused… first they have Defence Against the Dark Arts with that ghastly toad-lady, then Potions, Herbology, History of Magic and finally double Transfiguration. 

 

Sure, the first two subjects are his favourites, but he doubts he’ll enjoy DADA as much this year as he has done for the previous two years, and as much as he’s begun to genuinely enjoy Potions, it’s still one of the hardest subjects and definitely not something he wants to have to tackle on a Monday morning — especially not when he’s barely had a wink of sleep the night before!

 

”Come on, better not be late our first lesson with the toad…” Blaise mutters.

 

The Slytherins make the trek to the Defence classroom in companionable silence and it’s really a testament to how tired Harry is that he doesn’t notice the whispers that trail them through the corridors until they’ve climbed two floors. He blinks and glances behind him, catching a group of frowning Hufflepuffs huddled together outside the Charms classroom and they all glare back at him defiantly. 

 

”There’s always something…” Harry mutters bitterly. 

 

”Just ignore it”, Draco says immediately and Harry realises the haughty look of nonchalance on the blonde’s face is in fact an act, and he’s been aware of the attention Harry’s receiving this whole time. 

 

”It’s kind of hard to”, Harry says. ”Trust me, I know, I’ve had four years of practise!”

 

”They’ll get over it, they always do.”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says heavily. ”Until something _else_ crops up! I’m fed up with being the school pariah!”

 

”You have us”, Draco reminds him firmly. 

 

”I know…” Harry mumbles, letting the thought fill him up with a much needed warmth. ”I know, you’re right. Sorry for being a grump.”

 

Draco’s lips twitch into a small smirk and his fingers discreetly brush against the back of Harry’s hand for a second, just before they reach the Defence classroom and he holds the door open for Harry. 

 

The toad — Professor Umbridge, Harry corrects himself. He might as well get used to the name, so that he doesn’t slip up when addressing her and call her Professor Toad or something — is already seated at the teacher’s desk when they enter the classroom. Harry’s mind flashes back to Mad-Eye Moody — or rather the imposter Death Eater looking like him — lounging in that very chair, his magical eye swivelling around in its socket and registering everything around him. 

 

Professor Umbridge’s lack of magical eye certainly makes her less perceptive, but something tells Harry that her two regular, beady eyes are still registering plenty…

 

He goes to slide into one of the seats at the back, but Draco continues walking up the aisle towards the front, the others following suit. Harry sighs and drags his feet, trailing after them. To his chagrin, the blonde chooses to sit at the very front. 

 

Harry takes the seat next to him and hunches down as low as he’s able, giving the other boy a discreet glare that goes completely ignored. 

 

He imagines he feels the professor’s eyes on him, but when he glances up at her she seems to be studying her nails. She’s still wearing the hideous pink cardigan from last night, Harry notes. But instead of the Alice band, she’s now got a small, black bow balanced on her head. It reminds Harry of a fat, black fly and it makes the woman’s resemblance to a toad even more striking. 

 

When the last stragglers have taken their seats, an expectant hush falls over the classroom. The professor’s face breaks into a wide, but strangely insincere smile and Harry shivers slightly. 

 

”Well, good morning!” she says in a slightly exaggeratedly clear voice.

 

”Good morning”, the students mumble as one. 

 

” _Tut, tut_ ”, Professor Umbridge says, standing up behind her desk. ”That won’t do. I should like you all to please reply ’Good morning, Professor Umbridge’… now, let’s try that again, shall we? _Good morning, class!_ ”

 

A stony silence rings out in the classroom for a whole second and Harry feels a thrill when he sees the woman’s fake smile twitch and a glint of panic flare up in her beady eyes. 

 

”Good morning, Professor Umbridge”, the students obediently repeat, a decidedly chilled tone to their collective voice. 

 

Professor Umbridge’s smile widens again and she straightens up to her fullest height (which isn’t very impressive, but she still manages to look imposing behind her teacher’s desk), and Harry is perversely pleased to see that her forehead is a little shinier now.

 

 _We made her sweat,_ he thinks gleefully. 

 

He doesn’t know why he feels such vindictiveness towards the new teacher. There’s just _something about her_ … but most likely he’s just feeling frustrated from lack of sleep and once again being the subject of vicious gossip, not only amongst the other students at Hogwarts, but the wizarding world at large, and he’s simply taking those frustrations out on the first available target. 

 

 _But I’m a teenager, I’m allowed to_ , he thinks wryly. 

 

”Well”, Professor Umbridge says shrilly, her smile persisting stubbornly but her face getting shinier by the second. ”Wands away and… er… quills out, then… please…”

 

While the students tuck their own wands away and pull out parchment, ink and quills instead, Professor Umbridge swirls around and taps the blackboard with her wand. Immediately words appear on it: _”Defence Against the Dark Arts — A Return to Basic Principles”_

 

”Now”, Professor Umbridge says, turning back to face the class. ”It is my understanding that your teaching in this subject has been very disrupted and fragmented, so far, isn’t that right?… no consistency… constant changing of professors, many of whom didn’t even follow a Ministry-approved curriculum and one who wasn’t even human!” 

 

The short woman lets out a shrill tinkle of laughter, but it quickly dies down again as her eyes flit nervously between the students. Harry feels Draco’s fingers brush against the knuckles of his clenched fist and he realises the quill he’s holding has snapped in two between his fingers. He quickly drops the two pieces on the desk and hunches down in his seat again. A quick glance around the classroom tells him he’s not the only one glaring daggers at the professor and that, at least, cheers him up slightly again. 

 

”Well, I mean to say…” Umbridge croaks and lets out another tinkle of laughter. ”I only meant… no wonder you’re so far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year… but not to worry! We shall soon fix that!”

 

Swirling back around, she taps the blackboard once more and the words are quickly replaced with three bullet points:

 

  * _Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._
  * _Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._
  * _Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._



 

” _Hem, hem_ … yes… as you can see, we will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, _Ministry-approved_ course of defensive magic this year… _hem, hem_ … copy this down.”

 

Another stony silence spreads throughout the class. Harry watches the woman with narrowed eyes, willing her to meet his gaze but she seems intent to look everywhere but in his direction… Harry feels his heart thud excitedly as he continues to stare her down, sure she must feel his eyes on her, even if she pretends not to… a small bead of sweat swells on her brow and slides down the side of her face suddenly and Harry smiles. She quickly bats the drop of sweat away with a trembling hand.

 

”Now… p-please…” she adds loudly. 

 

Harry keeps his hands clenched into fists on top of the table and continues to stare at her, even when the scratching of quills against parchment erupts all around him as his classmates finally comply. He can hear Blaise whisper something to Draco about using spells, but doesn’t tear his eyes away from Umbridge. 

 

Her eyes dart over to Blaise and Draco next to him. 

 

”There is no need to talk”, she tells them pointedly. ”Did you have a question about the course aims?”

 

”Well, actually, yeah”, Blaise says. ”Ma’am.”

 

Umbridge’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. 

 

”And your name is?”

 

”Blaise Zabini.”

 

”Well, Mr Zabini, if you just read the course aims carefully, you’ll see they’re perfectly—”

 

”They don’t mention using defensive spells, ma’am”, Blaise cuts in clearly. 

 

”Using spells?” Umbridge repeats and titters. ”Well, I don’t see why you would possibly need to use spells in my classroom, Mr Zabini…”

 

”What?” Harry blurts out. ”We’re not going to—?”

 

”Students will raise their hands, if they wish to speak, in my class!”

 

Harry debates with himself for a second, but finally decides to drop it and instead goes back to staring the professor down. 

 

Finally, her beady eyes flit over to meet his. 

 

”Yes, Mr Potter?”

 

Harry feels Draco’s knee knock against his own under the table. He maintains the eyelock with the professor for another second, but then he looks away and begins to dig through his bag for a new quill. 

 

”I asked you a question!”

 

Harry ignores her and upends his book bag on top of the table. His books and wand tumble out with a loud clatter… _no quill…_

 

” _Mr Potter!_ ”

 

”What?” Harry snaps.

 

He looks up again and pins the woman with his coldest stare. 

 

”I didn’t have my hand up.”

 

”I will not tolerate insolence in my class!” Umbridge says, her shrill voice breaking slightly. 

 

”Fine”, Harry says. 

 

”You will address me as _Professor Umbridge_ or _Ma’am_ —”

 

”Fine, _ma’am._ ”

 

”—and you will do as you are told. Now copy this down, and quickly! _Everyone is waiting, Mr Potter—!_ ”

 

”I can’t copy it down, Professor”, Harry says. ”I haven’t got a quill.”

 

Umbridge seems to still then, her narrowed eyes boring into Harry as another insincere smile splits her flabby face in two. Harry frowns.

 

”Then you can borrow one of mine, Mr Potter…” she says, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes glittering.

 

”That’s okay, Professor”, Draco says. ”I have an extra quill that Harry can borrow.”

 

Umbridge face falls slightly, but she quickly recovers and gives Draco a small nod. 

 

”Thank you, Mr…?”

 

”Malfoy, ma’am”, Draco mumbles. 

 

”Mr Malfoy, of course… well, Mr Potter, wasn’t that nice of Mr Malfoy? I daresay you’ve got no more excuses now?”

 

Harry says nothing, just accepts Draco’s spare quill when he hands it to him and quickly scrawls down the words on his parchment. 

 

”The rest of you, please turn to page five in your copies of Wilbert Slinkhard’s _Defensive Magical Theory_ and read _’Chapter One, Basics for Beginners’_ … there will be no need to talk.”

 

Harry quickly finishes scrawling down the last bullet point, then reaches for his DADA book and turns to page five and begins to read. The text is so mind-numbingly boring, Harry catches himself re-reading the same sentence at least four times, and he still has no idea of what he’s actually read. 

 

”Yes, Miss…?”

 

”Greengrass, ma’am.”

 

Harry looks up and cranes his neck so he can see Daphne at the other end of the table, her hand still in the air. 

 

”Did you have a question about the chapter, dear?” Umbridge says in a sickly sweet voice. 

 

”No, ma’am”, Daphne says, lowering her hand again. ”I just wanted to clarify — about the course aims—”

 

”I don’t think there’s any need for that”, Umbridge says, still as sweetly. ”It’s perfectly straight-forward dear.”

 

”So we’re not going to be practising any spells? At all?” Daphne asks, a little incredulously and then catching herself and adding a muttered ma’am. 

 

”We are going to be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free—”

 

Harry snorts. 

 

”—way! Yes, Mr Potter, you had something to say?” she adds, the sweetness now gone from her voice. 

 

”No, of course not, Professor”, Harry says with feigned innocence. ”I didn’t have my hand up, did I—?”

 

”Mister Potter—”

 

”But now that you mention it”, Harry interrupts loudly. ”If we’re going to be attacked—”

 

”Ten points from Slytherin!”

 

”—it’s hardly going to be risk-free, is it?” Harry ploughs on stubbornly. ”So what’s the use of—?”

 

” _Mr Potter!_ Do you think you’re very likely to be attacked in my classroom?” Umbridge asks in an even louder voice. 

 

”It wouldn’t be the first time”, Harry says. 

 

A few of his fellow Slytherins snicker behind him and Harry smirks, without tearing his eyes away from the now rather flustered professor. 

 

”Well”, she says, drawing herself up. ”That just goes to show, doesn’t it… you have all been exposed to some _very irresponsible_ wizards in this class, very irresponisble _indeed_! Not to mention extremely dangerous _half-breeds_ —!”

 

Harry’s smirk falls and he feels white hot rage flare up inside his chest. 

 

”If you mean Professor Lupin, he’s the best teacher we’ve ever had”, Pansy says loudly and Harry feels a surge of gratitude to the girl, but it’s not nearly enough to put out the bonfire of _pure hatred_ he feels for Umbridge in this moment. 

 

” _Hand,_ dear!” Umbridge snaps. ”Now, as I was saying, you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you’re likely to run into Dark wizards every other day, but…” she lets out another tinkle of laughter, except it sounds decidedly strained now. ”How likely is that, really, if you think about it, I mean… who do you imagine would even _want_ to attack children such as yourselves?”

 

”Oh, I dunno”, Harry says loudly. ”Maybe _Lord Voldemort?_ ”

 

A heavy hush descends over the class and Harry feels the weight of ten pairs of eyes on him, but refuses to look away from Professor Umbridge. She, on the other hand, is now definitely avoiding his eyes again and her fake, sickly smile has dropped from her face finally. 

 

”Now, listen to me…” she says softly, her voice quivering in a show of sincerity. ”You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —”

 

”He wasn’t dead”, Harry snaps angrily. ”But yeah, he’s returned —!”

 

”Mr Potter, you have already lost your house ten points, do not make matters worse for yourself”, Umbridge rattles off in one breath, still without meeting his eyes. ”As I was saying, you’ve been told a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. Now let me reassure you—”

 

”He is at large”, Harry bites out and Draco slams his knee hard against Harry’s under the table, but if Umbridge has heard him she pretends not to. 

 

”This is a lie—”

 

”It’s not”, Harry hisses. 

 

”A blatant lie constructed to spread fear and create chaos—”

 

”It’s not a lie!” Harry barks. ”I saw him, I fought him!”

 

”Detention, Mr Potter!” Umbridge cries and he catches an almost triumphant light flare up in her eyes, just before she turns her back to him. ”Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office… I repeat, it is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizards. But if you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. You see, I am here to help. I am your friend—”

 

Before Harry knows what he’s even doing, he’s thrust his fist into the air. Professor Umbridge insinctively turns her head towards him, but quickly catches herself and turns her back to him again. 

 

”Don’t…” Draco hisses next to him, but Harry ignores it. 

 

”So Viktor Krum, he just dropped dead of his own accord, then, according to you?” Harry says loudly to the woman’s broad back. 

 

”Only _you_ can account for what happened to Viktor Krum in that maze, Mr Potter” Umbridge says coldly. ”And although I admit a resurrected Dark wizard with a murderous plot serves as an excellent alibi, if no such Dark wizard exists, we might ask ourselves who _did_ kill Viktor Krum, now, mightn’t we?”

 

”What?” Harry says.

 

Umbridge slowly turns around and meets his eyes again. 

 

”Or, we can agree that his death was a tragic accident…”

 

”We could, but that doesn’t make Voldemort any less real”, Harry growls. 

 

Professor Umbridge simply stares back at him. Harry focuses on the hard thumping of his own heart, every beat another second ticking by… he counts eight of them, before the professor moves. Without breaking their tense eyelock, she slowly takes her seat behind the teacher’s desk again. Then she reaches for her quill and a piece of parchment. 

 

”Come here, Mr Potter…” she says softly, scribbling something quickly on the piece of paper. 

 

Gritting his teeth, Harry stands up and stalks over to the desk. She finishes her scribbing and rolls up the small parchment again, sealing it with a tap of her wand before handing it to him. 

 

”Take this to Professor Snape, dear…”

 

Harry snatches the roll of parchment from her without a word and whirls around, stomping out of the classroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I offended any Backstreet Boys fans with this chapter... ;)


	35. Jealousy and blood quills

Crumpling the roll of parchment in his clenched fist, Harry slams the door to the Defence classroom and stomps down the corridor, half hoping to shake the anger off but the harder he stomps, the angrier he gets. By the time he reaches the spiral staircase leading to the dungeons, he’s fuming. 

 

He takes the stairs two at a time and then jumps off the staircase from the third step from the bottom, then sprints down the length of the corridor, relishing the rush of adrenaline.

 

He finally come to a thundering stop outside Professor Snape’s office and leans back against the wall as he catches his breath. 

 

The door suddenly flies open next to him and he jumps, stumbling back and nearly tripping over. 

 

”Harry?” Professor Snape says, frowning at him from the doorway. ”What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in class?”

 

”I was sent to see you…”

 

” _Sent?_ ” Snape repeats sharply, his eyes narrowing. ”Sent by whom?”

 

”Toad-face”, Harry mutters. 

 

”What was that?”

 

”Professor Umbridge”, Harry says a little louder. 

 

He thrusts the roll of parchment into his Head of House’s hand and as the man’s narrowed gaze flits down to it, a sharp sigh that sounds suspiciously like _’one lesson’_ escapes him. Harry feels his anger finally deflate and for the first time he feels a twinge of regret. Because despite his many heartfelt assurances to both his dads, Professor Snape is right, here he is, after merely _one lesson_ and not even a whole one, _in trouble!_

 

Snape opens the sealed roll of parchment with a tap of his wand and Harry watches his narrowed eyes flit across the parchment, dread pooling in his stomach as he waits for the man’s reaction… finally, the Potions Master lets the parchment spring back into a roll and his dark eyes flicker up to Harry’s face again. 

 

Barely resisting the temptation to hang his head in shame, Harry bites his lip and meets the man’s eyes. 

 

”Get in here…”

 

”Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

 

He shuffles past the Potions Master and across the threshold. 

 

A cursory glance around the dim office tells Harry that Professor Snape is still keeping his shelves fully stocked with gross and slimy animal parts and plants pickled in jars of different coloured potions, just like the last time he visited the office. 

 

At least he assumes the shelves were similarly stocked last time, but to honest he’d been too focused on the Potions Master at the time to really pay attention to the state of his office… the very first time he stepped inside the office, on the other hand, he’d barely been able been able to tear his eyes away… it was on the second evening of third year — when he and Professor Snape had made arrangements for the coming year’s weekly detentions that Harry had earned at the end of Second Year when he went against his Head of House’s express orders to stay in the dorm and instead broke into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny Weasley — and despite the less than thrilling nature of the visit, Harry had been quite excited to get a glimpse of his Head of House’s private office, especially the many coloured potion jars with their gruesome content. 

 

Halfway through the school year, Harry had found himself inside the Potions Master’s office again and the circumstances had been even worse… 

 

Sinking into the chair in front of Professor Snape’s desk, a sense of deja vú creeps over Harry and before he can stop it, his mind has flashed back to the last time he sat in this seat. It was an evening towards the end of the spring term and he’d snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night to take his Nimbus on a soar, just for an hour, to take his mind off everything that had been going on at the time, and as he was sneaking back in, Professor Snape caught him and brought him here. 

 

Harry remembers the man’s black eyes flashing furiously at him and his lips pressed thin and trembling slightly with suppressed rage. He hadn’t spoken one word to Harry as they made their way from the Entrance Hall to the dungeons and not until they entered the office did he speak, quietly telling Harry to sit down before demanding to know what he was holding. 

 

Almost paralysed by panic, Harry had looked between the broomstick in his right hand and the Marauder’s Map in his left. 

 

Professor Snape’s eyes had narrowed as he stammered out, _”M-my b-broom…?”_

 

Then with surprising speed, the man had leapt forward and snatched the Map from him. After inspecting the parchment quickly, he’d floo called Harry’s daddy who, Harry found out later, had been searching for Harry on the fifth floor of the castle.

 

Professor Snape swoops round the desk in a flurry of billowing robes, then slowly sinks into the seat opposite Harry and pins him with his dark eyes, and Harry suspects he’s remembering the last time Harry was here, too… he barely resists the temptation to hang his head and resolutely maintains eye contact with his Head of House, whose sharp glare never wavers. 

 

”Is it true?” the man asks quietly. 

 

”Is what true, Sir?” Harry mutters. 

 

”You yelled at Professor Umbridge?”

 

”I didn’t yell…” Harry huffs.

 

”You told her the Dark Lord has returned?”

 

”Yes”, Harry mutters defiantly, glaring at a pickled toad on the shelf behind Professor Snape. 

 

” _Excuse me?_ ”

 

”Yes, _Sir_ …”

 

”And you were insolent?” Snape presses sharply. 

 

Harry finally ducks his head and glares at his own thumb nail instead. 

 

” _Well?_ ”

 

”I suppose…” Harry mumbles, shrugging awkwardly. 

 

”Harry…” Snape sighs. 

 

Harry glances up curiously. The Potions Master is still frowning sternly, but he doesn’t look _very_ angry, Harry thinks. 

 

”Yes, Sir?”

 

”You need to learn to control your emotions. You can’t keep doing this…”

 

”Sir?” 

 

”You heard the speech Professor Umbridge made last night?” 

 

”Not really…” Harry mutters honestly, shrugging again. 

 

Professor Snape’s eyes flicker upwards briefly, before he pins Harry with another glare but this time it’s more exasperated than anything else… 

 

”Well. Like it or not, Dolores Umbridge has been appointed by the Ministry of Magic to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year, she is an official Hogwarts professor and you would do well to stay in her good books, for the time being… starting with attending the detentions she’s set for you, one every evening for the rest of the week…”

 

But Harry isn’t even listening anymore. Who cares about detentions, when Professor Snape is basically telling him to just let Toad Face get away with saying all sorts of horrible lies, and not even letting them practise the spells they’re supposed to be learning — in their OWL year, of all times! — and generally being a horrible cow?

 

”So, what”, he says. ”I should just let her spread lies and—?”

 

”Yes”, Snape says curtly.

 

”But Sir—!”

 

”I don’t want to hear it”, Snape snaps. ”Just keep your head down and control your temper.”

 

”I _did_ control my temper!” Harry exclaims. ” _She’s_ the one who did her nut and I never even lost my temper or nothing, even though she kept saying daddy isn’t even human and called him a dangerous _half-breed_! I wanted to hex that stupid bloody bow off her fat head — BUT I DIDN’T!”

 

Snape’s narrowed eyes flashes darkly and he presses his lips so tightly together they seem to disappear altogether. 

 

”Sir”, Harry adds surlishly.

 

”She called Remus a half-breed?” Snape asks quietly. 

 

” _Yes!_ She called him extremely dangerous”, Harry exclaims, heart thumping excitedly in his chest as anger and adrenaline begins to rush through him once more. ”And she said he isn’t even human!”

 

”I see…” Snape murmurs. ”I understand it must have been very… _difficult_ for you to hear that, Harry, but please try and control your emotions in the future—”

 

”What? _But Sir_ —!”

 

”I will inform the Headmaster of what you have told me”, Snape continues a little louder, ignoring Harry’s protest. ”But in the meantime, Harry, you _must_ try and focus on your schoolwork and not antagonise Professor Umbridge—”

 

” _Me_ antagonise _her?_ ” 

 

”Look”, Snape snaps, exasperation shining through his stoic mask again. ”You’re not the only one who is… _displeased_ with this woman’s appointment. But this is the reality of the situation and we must all try and make the best of it. Especially you.”

 

”Why especially me?” Harry demands. 

 

” _Because you’re the one sent to your Head of House with a note threatening expulsion unless your behaviour improves!_ ” 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

Professor Snape’s eyes flits over to one of the shelves next to the desk and he huffs out a breath, visibly collecting himself once more. 

 

”Sir, all I did was—”

 

”It doesn’t matter, Harry”, Snape says tiredly, slumping slightly in his seat. ”You know where she comes from, surely you realise to whom she’s reporting? I know it isn’t fair…”

 

”But… but she can’t _expel me_ —!”

 

”No, she can’t”, Snape agrees. ”At least not at the time being. Let’s make sure it stays that way… all right?”

 

Harry feels the fight drain out of him as quickly as it had resurged, replaced with a heavy feeling of hopelessness. 

 

”I’m putting you back on the Quidditch team”, Snape says suddenly. 

 

Harry looks up in surprise. The older man gives him a nod and twists his lips in a grimace clearly meant to be an encouraging smile. Harry hesitantly smiles back. 

 

”There will be official try-outs next week, of course. But I’m sure Marcus will want you back in the Seeker position…”

 

”Flint?” Harry says in surprise. 

 

”Yes”, Snape mutters. ”He failed all his NEWTs, so he’ll be repeating seventh year. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it this evening in the Common Room… now, if that’s all, I need to prepare for your lesson.”

 

Professor Snape stands up abruptly and Harry quickly follows suit. 

 

”You may wait in the classroom”, Snape adds. 

 

Harry nods, then silently trails after the Potions Master as he strides out of the office.

 

Thinking Draco and Blaise will want to sit at the front of the classroom, Harry chooses a seat in the front row. Professor Snape moves around, making preparations for a few minutes, but soon takes the seat behind the desk and then they sit in companionable silence while they wait for the rest of the class to show up. 

 

Not surprisingly, Harry’s friends are the first to arrive and Draco quickly makes a bee-line for Harry and slumps down in the seat next to him, pinning him with a worried look as he hands over his book bag. 

 

”Thanks…” Harry mumbles with a small smile. 

 

”Don’t mention it”, Draco says. _Is everything okay?_ his eyes add, and Harry allows his smile to widen slightly. 

 

”Apparently I’m insolent”, he says wryly. 

 

”Well, what else is new…” Draco says drily, even as the worry in his eyes grows more and more frantic. 

 

”Yeah, well… guess I’ll have to work on that”, Harry says and shrugs lightly. ”That’s all.”

 

”Oh, is that all?” Draco repeats with a smirk, but Harry can see relief flood his face. 

 

”Yeah”, he says, discreetly slipping his hand under the desk and brushing his fingers over the other boy’s thigh. ”That’s all… and I’m back on the team.”

 

”Really?” Draco says, perking up to such a degree even a Hufflepuff would be able to tell. 

 

”Yep!” Harry smirks. ”Did you know Flint has to repeat seventh year? He’s still the Captain.”

 

”Yeah, I saw him last night”, Draco nods. ”He and Adrian looked cosier than ever… apparently they were having a massive row on the Hogwarts Express, but whatever they were fighting about they must have worked it out by the time they made it to the Great Hall, because they couldn’t take their eyes off each other…”

 

”Oh yeah”, Seamus pipes up on the other side of Draco. ”Pucey was practically draped over Flint all throughout dinner, but apparently he threw a paddy again in the Common Room later…”

 

”Why do they even bother staying together”, Harry says, shaking his head. 

 

”Yer one to talk!” Seamus huffs. ”The two of you is just as bad—”

 

”Not _quite_ as bad, surely”, Blaise cuts in. 

 

”Well…” Seamus says slowly. ”Maybe not quite as bad, but definitely the worst in our year!”

 

”Worst what?” Draco demands.

 

”Worst couple”, Seamus says with a teasing grin. ”Ye know… the biggest source of drama, like!”

 

” _Excuse me,_ that’s hardly—” Draco starts sharply, but falls silent as Professor Snape stands up behind the teacher’s desk. 

 

A hush immediately spreads throughout the classroom and every student turns to look at the Potions Master expectantly. He flicks his wand carelessly and the door of the classroom shuts with a click behind them. 

 

”Settle down…” he says silkily, even though they all are as settled as can be already. ”Before we begin today’s lesson, I think it’s appropriate to remind you all that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect _all_ of my students to _at least_ scrape an _’Acceptable’_ in their OWL, or suffer my… _displeasure._ ”

 

He looks over at the very last row of desks on the Gryffindor side of the classroom where Neville Longbottom is sitting and pins him with an intense look. The Gryffindor gives a tiny jolt that makes him wobble like a pile of jelly in his chair and he gulps visibly. 

 

Professor Snape sweeps his narrowed gaze across the rest of the class menacingly, lingering for a second on Harry next.

 

”From students of my own house, however, I will not accept anything less than _’Exceeds Expectations’…”_

 

Harry feels like the bottom plummets out of his stomach.

 

”But I have no doubt that you’ll manage”, Snape continues smoothly and lets his gaze wander away from Harry again, to linger instead on Seamus. ”As long as you _focus_ … if you wish to continue studying Potions with me next year, you’ll need to achieve an _’Outstanding’_ of course, because I only take the very best and most dedicated students into my NEWT Potions class… however, don’t worry too much about that now, concentrate instead on maintaining the high level I have come to expect from my OWL students… today, we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level, and that is the Draught of Peace, which is a potion commonly used for — Draco?”

 

”Ehm, preventing anxiety, Sir?” Draco says. 

 

”Correct”, Snape says. ”Calming anxiety and soothing agitation… it is also a potion that requires a particular precision, because should you be too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep… the ingredients and method are on the blackboard —”

 

Professor Snape flicks his wand carelessly towards the blackboard behind him and the list of ingredients as well as the step-by-step instructions suddenly appear on it in the Potions Master’s neat handwriting. 

 

”— You will find everything you need in the store cupboard —”

 

With another flick of his wand, Snape opens the door of the cupboard. 

 

”— You have an hour and a half… start.”

 

The Draught of Peace turns out to be the trickiest potion Professor Snape has ever set them, with each ingredient needing to be chopped or crushed in a very precise manner before being added in a specific order, at just the right time, all the while stirring the entire content of the cauldron an exact number of times, first clockwise and then anti-clockwise, before finally lowering the flame of the bunsen burner to precisely the right level and adding the very last ingredient. 

 

It’s with bated breath that Harry sprinkles powdered moonstone into his potion and quickly stirring it three times anti-clockwise, before sinking back into his seat to wait for the potion to simmer for seven minutes. However, he keeps glancing nervously at the clock on the wall, hardly daring to let his mind wander for fear of losing track of time.

 

By the time he jumps up and reaches for the dropper with syrup of hellebore — when six minutes and fifty seconds have passed — and holds it over the cauldron with a shaky hand while counting down the last ten seconds, he is sweating profusely and the silvery grey vapour rising from his cauldron is making his head feel fuzzy. 

 

Seven minutes on the dot, Harry carefully lets two drops of syrup of hellebore fall into the mixture and then quickly stirs the the potion five times clockwise and lowers the flame under the cauldron and dumps the last ingredient — powdered porcupine quills — into the the mixture and then finally lowers the flame even further, before collapsing back into his seat with a relieved sigh. 

 

He feels Professor Snape’s presence behind his back and glances over his shoulder. The Potions Master’s narrowed black eyes flit between Draco’s and Harry’s cauldrons, then flicker up to meet Harry’s eyes for a second before he sweeps away again without a word. 

 

Harry smiles to himself as he turns back to face the desk and as he glances over at Draco’s cauldron, he is pleased to see that the vapour rising from it matches the vapour rising from his own cauldron almost exactly, which means that he must have succeeded in making the potion since Draco never messes up a potion. 

 

”A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion”, Professor Snape tells the class at large. 

 

Harry feels a thrill of pride as he looks around and notices that most of his classmates cauldrons are either smoking or spitting sparks, not emitting the silvery vapour that his own and Draco’s are. 

 

Craning his neck, he can see that Blaise and Daphne have also managed to make their potions correctly, but Pansy’s and Theo’s cauldrons are letting out thick clouds of grey smoke rather than the misty fumes that the potion should be emitting, whereas Seamus’s doesn’t even seem to be simmering. The Irish boy is prodding the bunsen burner with his wand desperately, trying to reignite the flame. 

 

”Longbottom, what is this supposed to be?” Professor Snape says sharply. 

 

Harry twists around in his seat and looks over at the Gryffindor boy just as the colour drains from his chubby cheeks. 

 

”Well?” Snape demands.

 

The Gryffindor stares up at Professor Snape with wide, terrified eyes and opens his trembling lips to reply, but no sound comes out of his mouth. Professor Snape gives him an unimpressed look and with a quick flick of his wand he Vanishes the solid potion from the boy’s cauldron. 

 

”Those of you who _have_ managed to read the simple instructions and follow them”, Snape tells the rest of the class. ”Fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing… homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.”

 

”That’s not too bad”, Draco comments lightly, as soon as the class begins to chatter and move around noisily again. ”We have two days.”

 

”Yeah, but we also have our DADA homework”, Blaise reminds him. ”And I’ll bet you anything that by the end of today we’ll have homework for Herbology, History of Magic and Transfiguration too…”

 

”We have homework for DADA?” Harry mutters bitterly. 

 

”Yeah”, Draco says. ”Don’t worry, you can borrow my notes.” 

 

”Oh, yeah… they’re very nice notes”, Seamus pipes up at the other end of the desk, snickering. 

 

Harry looks over at the Irish boy in confusion. Noticing the smirks on his other friends faces and the blush in Draco’s cheeks, his confusion only grows stronger. 

 

”As soon as you left, Draco started writing very carefully”, Blaise tells him by way of explanation. 

 

”Shut up”, Draco mutters, his cheeks still a vivid pink. 

 

”Very nice and neat hand-writing, compared to his usual hippogriff scrawl… you know, so it’d be easier for you to read them later—”

 

”Shut up!” Draco repeats, a little louder. 

 

”What is going on here?” Professor Snape demands, swooping down on them. 

 

”Nothing”, three sets of voices say in unison. 

 

”Well, get a move on, or you’ll be late for your next les—”

 

A sudden _crash_ rings out in the classroom and everyone turns around to see Goyle wave his right hand furiously, spattering Crabbe and Bulstrode with potion and blood. Harry can see more blood welling up in the cuts in the boy’s palm where bits of the exploded flagon are now embedded, and quickly glances over at Professor Snape, to gauge his reaction… the Potions Master narrows his eyes at the injured boy and presses his lips together tightly, his nostrils flaring in frustration. 

 

”Come on, let’s get out of here…” Harry murmurs to the others. 

 

He grabs Draco’s and Blaise’s flagons from them and hurries up to the teacher’s desk with them and his own, before grabbing his book bag and fleeing the classroom with his friends before Professor Snape — like Goyle’s flagon — explodes. 

 

Longbottom seems to have had the same idea, because he nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to dive through the door and accidentally bumps sideways into Draco, who immediately shoves him away with a disgusted snarl — _”Watch it, Fatbottom!”_ — causing the Gryffindor boy to trip over for real and land with a muffled _thump_ on the floor in the middle of the corridor. His book bag flies out of his hand and its content spills out all around the boy. 

 

Harry feels a twinge of sympathy and considers helping him gather the books up again, but in the end he’s more concerned about getting to lunch with Draco and their friends, so he decides to leave Longbottom and his books to his own friends in Gryffindor. 

 

”HEY!” 

 

Harry wheels around to see Ron and Granger exit the potions classroom behind them. Ron’s ears are beet red and he’s glaring daggers at Draco, while Granger offers Longbottom a hand and helps steady him as he gingerly gets to his feet. 

 

”N-no, it’s okay”, he squeaks. ”I-It was my f-fault—”

 

But Ron doesn’t appear to be listening to his friend at all. Instead he strides right up to Draco and gets in his face. 

 

”What’s your problem?” he demands, then gives the blonde a forceful shove in the chest. ”How do _you_ like it? _Eh?_ ”

 

”Ron…” Harry says. 

 

The redhead’s gaze flickers over to Harry, but he quickly fixes Draco with a glare again. 

 

”Watch it, weasel”, Draco bites out, shoving him back. 

 

”Draco, don’t—” Harry starts. 

 

” _Ferret face!_ ” Ron growls and before Harry has even registered what’s happened, Ron has hurled himself at Draco and fisted his hand in his blonde hair. 

 

” _Get off me!_ ” Draco shouts shrilly, flailing in panic as the Gryffindor gets him in a headlock. 

 

He finally manages to get his arm around Ron’s neck, pulling him off balance and throwing him to the floor. Ron kicks out wildly as Draco manages to pull his robes over his head and trap him inside, but the redhead bucks in the blonde’s grip and smashes the back of his head hard against his collarbone. Draco lets out a pained cry, but immediately lashes out, seemingly trying to get the robes back off Ron so that he can claw his eyes out.

 

”Stop! STOP IT!” Harry screams.

 

Both boys ignore him and as they continue wrestling each other, the others form a hesitant semi-circle around them.

 

”Get him, Draco!” Seamus shouts excitedly, jumping out of the way as the two boys tumble towards him on the ground, grappling desperately. 

 

”Shut up, Seamus!” Harry hollers angrily, shooting his friend a sharp glare. ” _Draco, stop!_ DRACO!”

 

” _Ron, stop it!_ ” Granger cries, wringing her hands anxiously from her vantage point on the other side of the wrestling duo. ”He’s not worth it!”

 

Harry rocks forward on his feet indecisively, debating with himself whether he should just dive in and pry the boys apart… _but that might make it worse though_ , he thinks.

 

”GET HIM OFF ME!” Draco shrieks as Ron finally manages to untangle himself from his robes and clambers onto Draco’s back, choking him from behind. 

 

Harry’s heart lurches. He glances over at Blaise and the other boy gives him a quick nod. Together they bend down and grab each of the boys by the arms and drag them bodily apart, literally kicking and screaming, especially Draco, as Ron grabs him by the hair once more, before Blaise manages to pull him away. 

 

”What is the meaning of this?” Professor Snape’s coldest voice hisses from the doorway behind them. 

 

Panting from the effort to restrain his boyfriend, Harry gasps out a _Nothing,_ even as he fists his hands in the back of Draco’s robes and physically pulls him backwards, further away from Ron who, despite the presence of the Potions Master, is still waving his arms around like a windmill, trying to punch the blonde. 

 

” _Enough!_ ” Snape barks. 

 

Finally, Ron stops thrashing around and he and Draco both tear their furious eyes away from each other again. Harry slumps forward, allowing himself to rest his forehead against Draco’s shoulder blade for a second, before he lets go of his robes and steps back from him again. 

 

The blonde avoids his eyes as he readjusts his robes awkwardly and flattens his mussed up hair with trembling fingers.

 

Looking over at Ron, Harry can see several blonde strands peeking out from between the boy’s fisted fingers and frowns. 

 

”Explain yourselves”, Professor Snape demands, glaring between the two panting boys. 

 

”He started it”, Ron mutters, glaring mulishly at the floor. 

 

”I didn’t do anything, Professor”, Draco says furiously. ”Weasley attacked me for no reason—!”

 

” _You lying little_ —!” 

 

”Mister Weasley!” Snape snaps. 

 

Ron instantly falls silent, but his ears are still burning bright red, as is the rest of his face now. 

 

”Ten points from Gryffindor.”

 

”But Professor”, Granger protests. ”Malfoy _did_ start it — he pushed Neville!”

 

”Longbottom pushed me first!” Draco snarls. ”I wouldn’t even touch his fat arse with Seamus’s—!”

 

”That is enough”, Snape tells Draco sternly. ”I don’t want to hear another word… five points from Slytherin, as well. That is the end of it. Have I made myself clear? Good”, he snaps, before any of them has a chance to respond. ”All of you, get to your classes. _Now!_ ”

 

Draco snatches his book bag from floor and stamps down the corridor. Harry and the others hurry after him and they all make their way up to ground level in tense silence. Harry stays close to the blonde’s side the whole way, but makes sure their shoulders and hands never brush, just in case the contact will set the other boy off again, not wanting to get into an argument with his boyfriend over this. 

 

”Professor Snape was completely out of line”, Pansy tells Draco in a soothing undertone once they’re all seated at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. ”He shouldn’t have taken points from Slytherin — they attacked you!”

 

”Whatever”, Draco grumbles. ”I don’t care, anyway!”

 

Harry gives the blonde a sideways glance, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

Pansy nods sympathetically, but when her gaze flickers over to meet Harry’s briefly, a silent look of understanding passes between them and Harry realises the girl is simply appeasing Draco and that she, like Harry, knows that Draco _does_ care, and he cares a lot — not about the Gryffindors, or even losing points — but about those points being taken by Professor Snape, of all people. 

 

Harry thinks back and tries to remember if that’s ever happened before, and realises that no… the only times Draco has got into trouble with their Head of House has been when Harry has lead him into said trouble. Never before has Draco been caught breaking rules on his own and had his favourite professor scold him for it, in front of other students no less. And Harry knows it must be killing him… even without the suspicious sheen in the blonde’s eyes as proof. 

 

He discreetly moves his legs a little further apart, so that his thigh aligns with Draco’s, but without knocking their knees together. 

 

”Let’s change the subject…” Draco mumbles in a smaller voice. 

 

Pansy immediately delves into a discussion about some people Harry haven’t even heard of, but Draco seems to know them very well judging by how eagerly he joins in with the gossip… it takes Harry at least ten minutes to figure out that they’re not actually talking about real people at all, but _characters in an opera._

 

 _They’re really talking about bloody_ opera _,_ he thinks incredulously, shaking his head.

 

Turning away, Harry catches Seamus’s eye and the Irish boy immediately blurts out, ”So the Cannons!”

 

”I know”, Harry says emphatically, gratefully diving head-first into the discussion of the latest Quidditch scandal. ”Insane! D’you think Gudgeon will be suspended for the rest of the league?”

 

”Let’s hope not — or they might replace him with a half-decent Seeker!”

 

The rest of the day passes in a sort of blur, with one boring lesson (Herbology) bleeding into an even more boring one (History of Magic) until the monotony is finally broken up by Double Transfiguration with the strict Professor McGonagall who, like Professor Snape, starts the lesson off by reminding them all that they are now in their OWL year and every lesson leading up to the very difficult examination at the end of the school year, as well as every homework assignment, are all _essential_ — not only to ensure they pass their OWLs, but to ensure they have a future, _at all_ (which sounds a bit like an exaggeration, to Harry…)

 

”And you _cannot_ pass an OWL without serious application, practise and study”, Professor McGonagall tells them grimly. ”But I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work — yes, you too, Longbottom. There’s nothing wrong with your work, except lack of confidence—”

 

Draco lets out a soft snort of derision, barely loud enough for Harry to hear sitting next to him, but McGonagall with her age-defying bat-like hearing, immediately sends him a warning glare. Draco ducks his head and frowns at the desk top in front of him. 

 

”Whereas some of you are perhaps a tad _over_ -confident”, McGonagall says sharply. ”I’m telling you now, regardless of your marks at the end of last year, if you do not put in the work, you will fail your Transfiguration OWL… now. Today we will be starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not normally attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL…”

 

As it turns out, Professor McGonagall wasn’t exaggerating about _that,_ at least. By the end of the double period Harry hasn’t managed to Vanish the snail on which he’s supposed to be practising even once. Seamus and Theo are just as hopeless, as are most of the class, with the exception of Draco and Daphne, and Granger from the Gryffindors. As a result, everyone but the three of them are told to practise the spell as homework and prepare to make a fresh attempt the next day.

 

The accumulated homework of the day takes Harry a good two hours to finish and by the time he’s getting ready for bed, exhaustion is tearing away at him and he feels his eyelids droop in expectation as he drags himself to his bed. 

 

He collapses against his pillows with a tired sigh. He’s so tired he almost considers skipping the Dreamless Sleep and just take his chances… but just as he’s about to drift off, he’s shaken awake again by the bed dipping next to him. Blinking his itchy eyes open again, he squints through the gloom and makes out the blurry shape of Draco as he folds his long limbs and curls up next to him. 

 

”Hey…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Hey”, Draco replies in a hushed voice, then mutters ” _Silencio…_ ”

 

Harry shakes off the sleep tugging at him and sits up a little against the headboard of the bed. 

 

”So…” Harry murmurs. ”How was your summer?”

 

”It was all right”, Draco says after a tense pause. ”I… I’ll tell you later, okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry says, feeling just a tiny twinge of unease at the realisation that there’s something _to_ tell. ”What about today, want to tell me about that now?”

 

”What about today?” Draco says and even though Harry can’t see his face without his glasses, he can hear the defensive glare in his voice. 

 

”With Ron…”

 

”He attacked _me!_ ”

 

”I know”, Harry says hurriedly. ”But you didn’t have to sink to his level…”

 

Draco doesn’t say anything for a long while, but Harry can feel the tension in the air between them. He’s just about to lean across the bed and reach for his glasses on the floor, when he hears the other boy sigh. 

 

”I know…” he mumbles. ”But I can’t help it. I just… I just get _so angry_ around him…”

 

Harry frowns. He knows Draco and Ron have never got on, but he’s never heard Draco acknowledge it before. In fact, if Harry would have asked him about Ron at any point during the four years they’ve all spent at Hogwarts, Draco would probably have said something about being _indifferent_ to the Gryffindor — even if that would be a lie, Harry would never expect the blonde to outright admit that Ron gets under his skin — yet here he is now, admitting it.

 

”Just seeing him”, Draco continues. ”I just want to… punch him in his stupid face…”

 

”Draco…” Harry says, in some sort of vague admonishment.

 

” _I know!_ I know…” the other boy mutters in frustration. ”I just hate that he got to take you to the Yule Ball — I know it’s stupid, I know you only went as… as friends, but… I just hate it.”

 

”Well, I did ask you first”, Harry reminds him gently.

 

”I know…” the other boy mumbles in a small voice. 

 

”Hey…” Harry murmurs, reaching out to blindly comb his fingers through the other boy’s hair. ”I love you.”

 

Draco says nothing, but Harry feels his eyes on him and smiles. 

 

”I’ve loved you since first year, I think”, he adds. ”And every year I think I can’t possibly fall any harder for you, then the next year comes around and… and I just… I dunno, I just keep falling.”

 

”That’s so corny”, Draco mumbles, nestling his arm in behind Harry’s neck and pulling him into his side. ”I love it.”

 

Harry feels his face heat up in embarrassment, but keeps smiling.

 

”Me too, though”, Draco adds seriously, his warm breath ghosting over the scar on Harry’s forehead before he brushes his lips over it in a soft kiss. 

 

”I wish you would just get along with Ron”, Harry says. ”He’s all right, you know… and you have no reason to be jealous. I don’t fancy him at all and he doesn’t fancy me either. I don’t even think he likes other blokes. Or even if he does, he doesn’t like _me_ that way.”

 

”Of course he does”, Draco mutters. ”Don’t be naive.”

 

”He doesn’t”, Harry insists, leaning back to meet Draco’s gaze earnestly. ”Fred and George more or less told me he fancies Granger!”

 

”Ugh…” Draco says, feigning a shiver. 

 

”She’s all right, as well”, Harry says pointedly. ”Be nice.”

 

”She’s a bucktoothed besserwisser”, Draco counters stubbornly. 

 

”Draco!”

 

”Fine… did you take your potion already?” Draco asks, smoothly changing the topic. 

 

”Not yet”, Harry says, smirking fondly. ”It’s on the floor next to the bed…”

 

Draco untangles himself from Harry and leans away for a second, but reappears at his side almost immediately, pressing the glass phial into Harry’s hand. 

 

”It will knock me out”, Harry warns him. 

 

”That’s alright”, Draco says, curling his arm around Harry’s back again and pulling him close. ”I’m knackered, I just want to go to sleep…”

 

”Okay…” Harry says, pulling the stopper out of the phial and quickly chugging the potion. 

 

As always, the effect is instantaneous. The phial slips from his fingers and he goes boneless in Draco’s embrace, his eyelids growing steadily heavy. The last thing he’s aware of before he slips into unconsciousness is the feeling of Draco brushing another kiss against his forehead, then pulling the blanket over them both…

 

 

He wakes up feeling completely rested, the soft green light of the dorm window spilling in through a gap in the hangings around his four-poster bed, splashing over his face and breaking through the fleshy darkness of his eyelids… and Draco’s arms still loosely hugging him from behind. 

 

He stretches slightly, arching his back and pressing himself closer into the other boy’s embrace… immediately, the body behind him stirs, the arm around his midriff tightening… then the hand on his chest moves down and sneaks under the hem of his pyjama top, brushing the bare skin of his belly gently.

 

”Morning…” Harry mumbles thickly and smiles. 

 

Draco lets out a wordless, but definitely contented _hum_. Then Harry feels the cool tip of a nose nuzzle the back of his neck. 

 

”How did you sleep?” Harry asks. 

 

Draco mumbles something unintelligible and more or less buries his face in the back of Harry’s neck, obviously having no intention of getting up anytime soon…

 

 _That’s new,_ Harry thinks. 

 

For as long as he’s known Draco, he’s always been a morning person and as soon as he’s woken up, even if it’s at the crack of dawn, hours before he actually has to be anywhere and he could easily go back to sleep, he never does. Harry remembers having to get up really early for Quidditch matches in Second Year and Draco coming up to the Great Hall for breakfast with him, claiming he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep again anyway, once he’s woken up… whereas Harry himself has always struggled to drag himself out of bed. Now, however, it seems as though their roles have been reversed, the after effects of a night of Dreamless Sleep making Harry positively energised and bursting to jump out of bed, while Draco appears to be going back to sleep… Harry closes his eyes again and tries to doze off again, but it’s no use. He’s wide awake. 

 

So instead, he twists around carefully in the other boy’s embrace and burrows into his chest, counting the heartbeats he feels against his face and just relishing the quiet moment of easy intimacy between them. 

 

He can tell when Draco has woken up properly, because his breathing becomes shallower and there’s a sudden tension in his arm, like he’s trying really hard to keep it loose and relaxed around Harry’s body so as not to disturb him. 

 

”How did you sleep?” Harry asks again. 

 

”Like a baby”, the other boy answers immediately. ”I really needed that… what about you?”

 

”Yeah, same.”

 

”Good…”

 

Harry shifts a little and nestles deeper into the warm embrace, but freezes as the other boy lets out a soft gasp… for a split second, the arm around Harry’s body tightens and he feels an unmistakable hardness poke him in the hipbone as Draco’s hips give an involuntary jerk, before he shifts away from Harry entirely and lets at least an inch of space seep in between their bodies.

 

”You…” Harry starts, but cuts himself off awkwardly. 

 

”Sorry”, Draco mutters, pulling his arm away as well. 

 

”Don’t be”, Harry says quickly, reaching out to grasp the material of the other boy’s sleeve as if to tell the arm to _come back_. ”I’m, you know… too…”

 

”Yeah”, Draco mumbles and leans in to nuzzle Harry’s hairline for a second, planting a small kiss on his scar before pulling away again. ”But we’ll be late.”

 

”Oh… yeah…” Harry croaks. ”I suppose.”

 

”Later”, Draco murmurs, his voice thick with promise and Harry feels his own hardness throb eagerly at the sound of it. ”Come on, let’s go to breakfast”, the blonde adds and presses Harry’s spectacles into his hand, before pushing himself up to sitting. 

 

Harry rubs the sleep from his eyes, then pushes the glasses onto his face and squints up at the other boy happily. His blonde hair is slightly mussed and his eyes are still a little swollen, but the small smile that he sends Harry’s way makes Harry tingle all over and he beams back. 

 

”Dorcus…” Draco says with a smirk. ”Come on, get up already!”

 

As soon as they’re seated at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and he’s buttered a couple of slices of toast for himself, Harry takes out his timetable and glances at the subjects piled underneath _Wednesday._ It doesn’t look quite as bad as yesterday, he surmises. But he could have done without Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, seeing as the rain has yet to let up, if the enchanted ceiling is anything to go by… but at least they have a nice, slow start with Divination first thing in the morning followed by a free period. 

 

”We can get the Potions essay out of the way”, Draco says, also eyeing the free period before lunch on Harry’s timetable. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry agrees. _Or we could finish what we nearly started this morning,_ he doesn’t add. But he spends the rest of breakfast fantasying about it. 

 

Draco receives The Daily Prophet and quickly skims through it, before letting the girls have it. Harry can tell by the indifferent look on the boy’s face that there must have been at least one unfavourable mention of Harry himself in there, but he doesn’t bother asking. He doesn’t really want to know. 

 

Glancing around the Hall, he can tell people are whispering and throwing him furtive (and in some cases, _not_ so furtive) looks and he swallows a sigh, reaching for the coffee to pour himself a refill, then conjures up the image of Draco in his bed once more, concentrating on the memory of his sleep-mussed hair and smirking, plush lips… 

 

”You’re awfully quiet this morning”, Blaise comments as they stand up to make their way to the North Tower for Divination. 

 

”Just tired”, Harry lies. 

 

”Didn’t you get any sleep last night either?”

 

”Yeah, I did…” Harry says, avoiding his friend’s eyes under the pretence of making sure he’s got all his books with him in his book bag. ”But, you know… it’s just… early… you know.”

 

”Yeah…” Blaise says slowly. ” _I know_ …” 

 

When Harry glances over at him, he’s squinting back sceptically.

 

”Oh, what? Can’t a bloke just be tired?” Harry says, slinging the book bag over his shoulder. ”Let’s go — we’re going to be late.”

 

”What about you, Draco?” Blaise says casually, as they make their way out of the Great Hall. ”Are you tired, as well?”

 

”As well? _Oh_ …” the blonde says, glancing between the two of them. ”No, I slept great.”

 

”Harry says he’s _tired_ —”

 

”Will you just give it a rest?” Harry snaps. 

 

Blaise merely smirks back, but he does falls silent and Draco doesn’t say anything either.

 

As they trudge up the winding stairs to the North Tower for Divination class, they pass the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his chubby pony and the short, squat knight immediately lets out a battle cry and leaves his pony to continue munching listlessly on the grass in the painting, in order to pursue the group of Slytherins through the neighbouring picture frames, his panting breath barely audible over the clanking of his armour.

 

”Get — back here — you scurvy — dogs!” the small knight pants. ”Face me — like men — you rogues!”

 

”Shove off, Cadogan”, Seamus mutters, almost as out of breath as the painted knight after seven flights of stairs. 

 

”Draw, you — _knaves_ — you — ARRRGH—!”

 

Harry looks back over his shoulder to see Sir Cadogan trip over his own feet and land in a sprawling heap in the middle of a nest of startled Horklumps. He flops onto his back and pushes the visor onto his head, gasping for breath and shouting after them. 

 

They ignore the breathless insults hurled at their backs and continue climbing up the last few steps, until they reach the small landing beneath the circular trapdoor to the Divinations classroom and leans back against the wall to wait. Soon the rest of the class joins them, but no-one speaks, everyone seemingly too tired still to make smalltalk. However, Harry catches Pansy and Daphne give each other a meaningful look and then smirk over at Millicent Bulstrode who’s standing off to one side by herself. 

 

Harry frowns, suddenly remembering all three girls hanging out together back in first and second year… he’d assumed they were friends, but then at some point Bulstrode had stopped spending time with the other two girls… _or was it the other way round?_ Harry wonders, glancing over at the surly girl now. He hadn’t even thought about it before, but now that he does think about it, she seems to be alone most of the time as of late. He’s seen her sitting together with a couple of younger girls in the Common Room, though. So it’s not like she hasn’t got _any_ friends… 

 

The girl looks up suddenly and catches him staring and immediately scowls at him. He quickly looks away again, shooting Pansy and Daphne an annoyed glare when the two girls burst out into snickers. 

 

Draco gives him a questioning look.

 

 _Girls_ , Harry is just about to say by ways of explanation, but the bell ringing interrupts him and he just shakes his head instead. 

 

The trapdoor opens and a silver ladder descends from the circular hole in the ceiling above them, which Harry moves towards and starts climbing, dread pooling in his stomach with every step towards the stuffy classroom. 

 

It’s even worse than Harry remembers. The sickly sweet perfume rising from the fire is potent enough to give him a dull headache, but not strong enough to completely mask the earthy scent of mildew and dust. 

 

He wends his way between the many small tables, pouffes and chintz armchairs cramped inside the small circular classroom, careful not to trip over any of them as he squints through the gloom — and careful, also, not to bump into Professor Trelawny, who is sashaying between the tables as well, placing battered old leather-bound books on each of them — and finally he chooses a seat at the table in the far corner of the room, half-hoping to shrink into the shadows and avoid having his death predicted by the professor, if only for Draco’s peace of mind…

 

”Good day…” Trelawny says in her usual misty voice, once everyone is seated. ”Welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays and am delighted that you have all returned safely to Hogwarts — as, of course, I knew you would…”

 

She slowly lowers herself into her high-backed armchair in front of the fire and blinks her hugely magnified eyes at them, looking as ever like huge insect… Harry has a sudden image of Toad Face emerging from the shadows and ensnaring her with a massive tongue, before swallowing her whole, beads and shawls and all… shaking his head slightly, Harry sits up a little straighter, suddenly very determined _not_ to doze off, like he normally does during Divination… 

 

”You will find on the tables before you copies of _The Dream Oracle_ by Inigo Imago”, Trelawny continues in her, ironically, dreamy fashion. ”Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL… not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so… turn, please, to page three in your books and read the introduction. Then, divide into pairs and use _The Dream Oracle_ to interpret each other’s most recent dreams… carry on.”

 

Determined to do as little divining as possible, especially if it requires scrutinising his own dreams, Harry reads the introduction _very slowly_ … so slowly, in fact, that by the time he’s finished, there’s only ten more minutes left of the lesson. 

 

Draco is watching him expectantly as he looks up, clearly waiting for him to finish so that they can pair up. Harry frowns — he knows Draco is very mindful of maintaining his marks, in all his subjects, even Divination — but he’s never stopped to ask himself whether the blonde actually believes in all of this… _crap,_ Harry thinks plainly. _That’s what it is. Complete tosh._

 

But in case Draco _does_ believe in it, he doesn’t say this out loud. 

 

”Er… want to… ehm… tell me one of your dreams?” he asks the boy instead. 

 

”I don’t really…” Draco trails off, shifting uncomfortably on his pouffe. ”I mean…”

 

”What?” Harry frowns. 

 

”Well, I don’t dream… really…”

 

”What — ever?” Harry says incredulously. ”Of course you do! Everyone does!”

 

”Not… really…” Draco mumbles. ”I mean, I get snippets of… but I don’t really remember anything when I wake up.”

 

”Snippets of what?” Harry presses. 

 

”I don’t know!” Draco says in frustration. ”You tell me one of yours instead—!”

 

”No way.”

 

The blonde opens his mouth to protest, but then seems to come to some sort of realisation because he sort of deflates and closes his mouth again. 

 

”Sorry”, he mutters. ”I didn’t think…”

 

”It’s all right”, Harry mumbles. ”Sure you can’t remember any of yours? Any snippet? We just need the one…”

 

Draco seems to be weighing his options for a moment, then finally licks his lips and, sitting up a little straighter again, he gives his head a small shake to get his fringe out of his eyes. 

 

”Okay… last night I dreamt about the sea.”

 

”The sea?” Harry repeats curiously. ”What, in France?”

 

”I don’t know. I suppose so. It was sunny and the water was quite warm. I mean it was cool, but it wasn’t cold, you know…”

 

”And… what? you were just swimming?”

 

”Not exactly”, Draco mumbles. ”Does it matter? Can’t we just look up _’sea’_ …”

 

He flicks the pages of his Dream Oracle, scanning the list of words. 

 

”It’s not very specific”, Harry says carefully. ”Were you just on the beach, watching the sea?”

 

” _’Sea’, see ’water’_ …” Draco reads under his breath and then proceeds to flick a few more pages. 

 

”Were you _in_ the water?” Harry continues. ”…floating?”

 

”Here!” Draco says decisively and holds the book up to recite the passage, effectively creating a barrier between himself and Harry, whether intentional or not. ” _’Water is one of the most common symbols conjured by our unconscious and translated into the medium of dreams and represents the dreamer’s emotions, or, often the unconscious itself, especially if it’s a large body of water like a vast lake or the ocean’_ …”

 

The blonde trails off and frowns at the book. 

 

”Yes?” Harry prods. ”Is that it?”

 

”No…” Draco mutters, then continues reading in a much more reluctant voice. ” _’The state of the body of water will tell you the nature of your current state of emotion, similarly, how you engage with the water in your dream will tell you’_ …”

 

The blonde trails off again. 

 

”Go on…” Harry prompts. 

 

”Ehm… well… _’for example, swimming, paddling or rowing down a river may suggest you going with the flow in life, whereas struggling to swim up the river would suggest the opposite and might be your unconscious’s way of telling you that you are going against your intuition’_ …” Draco finishes reading the passage quickly, in one breath, then promptly slams the book shut again and puts it down on the table. 

 

”Yeah, so, were you swimming or what?” Harry says. 

 

”I don’t know, I told you I don’t remember!” Draco snaps. 

 

”All right — keep your hair on!”

 

”This whole thing is stupid anyway…” Draco mutters sullenly. 

 

”Well… yeah”, Harry says and shrugs. ”It’s an easy ’O’ though, isn’t it…?”

 

”I don’t know about easy…” Draco grouses. 

 

Finally the bell rings and they both jump to their feet gratefully, hurrying towards the trapdoor. 

 

”Homework assignment”, Professor Trelawny cries, before they’ve managed to flee the classroom. ”Keep a dream diary for the next month, as detailed as you can, please!”

 

”You’ve got to be kidding me…” Harry mutters. 

 

Suddenly the free period before lunch doesn’t seem at all luxurious, with such a mountain of homework now looming over them. 

 

”Damn trickery, is what it is!” Seamus growls, as they claim a table in the back of the library. 

 

Harry is inclined to agree. Even if it’s only the second day and the stress of being in their OWL year really hasn’t grabbed them yet, Harry still could have used an hour and a half to just _relax_ , especially considering he’s got his first detention with Toad Face to look forward to this evening.

 

But first, he has to venture out into the rain for Care of Magical Creatures… the only silver-lining being that at least the oaf Hagrid isn’t taking the lesson and putting them all in danger, rather when they reach the paddock next to Hagrid’s old hut, Professor Grubbly-Plank is waiting for them next to a trestle table with what at first glance looks like a small pile of sticks, but at a closer look turns out to be —

 

”Bowtruckles!” Granger informs them all, her hand still thrust desperately in the air. ”They’re tree guardians, usually they live in wand trees!”

 

Draco pulls a bucktoothed face behind her back and Pansy and Daphne dissolve in half-muffled giggles. 

 

”Settle down!” Professor Grubbly-Plank tells them sternly, before turning back to Granger. ”That’s right. Have five points for Gryffindor, girl…  these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?”

 

Draco quickly raises his hand, but Granger blurts out the answer without even getting the say so from the professor, earning a murderous glare from the blonde, who then spends the rest of the lesson performing his impersonation of the Gryffindor girl whenever she talks, to peels of laughter from the other Slytherins despite Grubbly-Plank’s stern admonitions. 

 

”All right, all right, settle down!” the old witch says loudly. ”Now, gather round everybody, and take some woodlice… there should be enough here for all of you… then pick a Bowtruckle, I have enough here for one between three of you, and I want you to study them more closely… I want a sketch from _each_ of you, with all body parts correctly labelled, by the end of the lesson…. off you go!”

 

 

*

 

As soon as the bell rings at the end of Charms, which is their last lesson of the day, Harry says goodbye to his friends and hurries down to the Great Hall for a quick supper before he has to be in Professor Umbridge’s office for his five o’clock detention. 

 

When he gets there, the office is completely unrecognisable from the other times he’s been their in the previous two years. When his daddy had been the Defence teacher, he always kept some exciting creatures in the small office that he would introduce the students to in his lessons, and when the Barty Crouch Jr. pretended to be Mad-Eye Moody, the office had been crammed with Dark Wizards detectors and other spy equipment, as well as a large trunk that later turned out to be hiding the real Moody. 

 

Now, however, lacy covers and cloths are draped over every surface and the walls are covered in a rather vast collection of ornamental plates, all depicting different types of kittens, each with a large bow around its neck, similar to the ones that Umbridge herself seemed to favour as a hair accessory. 

 

”Hem, hem… Good evening, Mr Potter”, her sickly sweet voice slithers across the room towards him now. 

 

He glances over to where she’s standing, the floral pattern of her hideous robes almost making her blend in with the table cloth on the desk behind her. 

 

”Good evening”, he replies tersely and lets three tense seconds tick by before adding _Ma’am._  

 

The smile of the woman’s face seems to have frozen in place and one of her bulging brown eyes twitches slightly. 

 

Without another word, she points him towards a small table draped in lace and walks over and perches stiffly on the edge of the straight-backed chair’s seat. A blank piece of parchment has been laid out for him on the table top and fingers the edge of it, pulling it a little closer to the edge. 

 

”Now, Mr Potter… you are here for being insolent and disrupting class”, Umbridge says and, glaring at the parchment in front of him with gritted teeth, Harry reminds himself of his conversation with Professor Snape and forces himself to remain quiet. ”And for spreading evil… nasty…”

 

He lets his narrowed eyes flicker up to her face and her smile widens pleasantly. 

 

”…attention-seeking lies”, she finishes with an air of triumph. 

 

Harry’s jaw is now clenched so tightly it’s begun to throb, but with a deep breath he manages to reel in his anger again. 

 

”There”, Umbridge says lightly, her bulging eyes glittering with malice. ”Already you’re getting better at controlling that nasty temper of yours… let’s see if we can really hammer the message home, shall we? I want you to do some lines for me this evening —”

 

”Fine”, Harry grits out. 

 

”— and I want you to write ’I must not tell lies’, all right?”

 

”How many times?”

 

”Oh, as many as it takes”, Umbridge says quietly, and Harry frowns at the sudden breathless quality to her voice. ”For the message to really… _sink in_ …”

 

”Fine”, Harry mutters again and bends down to retrieve his quill and ink well from his bag. 

 

”Oh no”, Umbridge says lightly. ”Not with your quill. You’re going to be using a rather special one of mine.”

 

She trots over to him and places a long, black quill next to the piece of parchment on the table. 

 

”All right”, Harry mutters nonplussed. ”Do you want me to use my own ink?”

 

”Oh, you won’t be needing any ink…”

 

”Okay…” Harry says slowly, but picks up the quill, eager to get the detention over with as quickly as possible.

 

Scratching out an _’I’_ with slightly more force than strictly necessary, Harry is mildly surprised to see the crimson ink that flows out of the sharp tip of the quill and glances at the long, black plume curiously, wondering how much ink can possibly fit inside its base. 

 

 _’must not tell lies’_ , he scrawls out and watches as the red letters gleam for a moment in the light from the lanterns around the room, before the ink starts to dry. 

 

Harry moves the quill from the parchment to continue writing on the next line. A sudden sharp burn stings the back of his hand and he lets out involuntary gasp of pain. Jerking his hand back from the parchment and turning it over, Harry can only stare at the words now carved into the skin there, words in his own handwriting. 

 

”Is there a problem?” Umbridge says in her sweetest voice.

 

Heart pounding furiously in his chest and blood rushing to his head, Harry hears a thumping noise in his ears and tears his eyes away from the wound on the back of his hand, that’s already started to heal over again, and looks up to meet the woman’s eyes that blink at him in feigned innocence. 

 

”No”, he says, his voice scratching his throat as he forces it out. ”Nothing.”

 

”That’s right”, Umbridge whispers, her eyes bulging further and glittering with malice and excitement. ”Because _you know_ … deep down… that you _deserve_ to be punished, don’t you, Mr Potter?”

 

Harry feels bile rising in his throat and swallows hard. He says nothing. Just looks down at the parchment again. The words written there have dried now, looking more brown than red but still clearly _blood_ … 

 

 _My blood_ , he thinks faintly. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he quickly scrawls, _I must not tell lies_ and steels himself for the sharp sting, determined not to let Toad Face see or hear his pain again. 

 

He doesn’t look at the back of his hand again, just continues writing quickly, efficiently, mechanically…

 

_I must not tell lies_

_I must not tell lies_

_I must not tell lies_

 

His whole hand is pounding now, the back of it feeling like the skin has been flayed from the flesh and each letter that he scratches into the parchment feels like it’s being gouged in between the small bones left on display… he imagines feeling blood running freely down his arm, but _refuses to look_ …

 

_I must not tell lies_

_I must not tell lies_

 

Finally he reaches the bottom of the parchment and runs out of space to write. Without even thinking about it, he swiftly turns the paper over and continues to write on the back. 

 

_I must not tell lies_

 

He has to keep the quill moving. If he stops, if he so much as pauses, there is no way he’ll be able to start again, no matter what Toad Face says or threatens him with. He’ll break down then — she’ll have broken him — and he won’t give her that satisfaction. _He won’t_. 

 

_I must not tell lies_

 

”Hem, hem…”

 

_I must not tell lies_

 

”All right, that’s enough…”

 

_I must not tell lies_

_I must not tell lies_

 

”That’s enough for now —”

 

_I must not_

 

”I said —”

 

_not tell lies_

 

”— enough!”

 

_I must not tell lies_

_I must not tell lies_

 

”ENOUGH! STOP!”

 

_I must not tell lies_

 

” _STOP WRITING!_ ”

 

Harry wrenches the quill away from the parchment and glares down at the list he’s composed. The whole parchment is filled with blood red words that seem to be dripping down the page. They swim before his eyes. The taste of copper fills his mouth and for an awful second he thinks he can _taste_ the words he’s written. 

 

”That’s… that’s enough…” Umbridge says, a small tremor in her voice.

 

Harry tosses the quill down on the table and feels a thrill when a drop of ink — no, blood — falls from the tip and soaks into the lacy table cloth. 

 

He realises his heart is still pounding and he’s breathing hard, like he’s been running. 

 

”We’ll… continue tomorrow night. You may leave.”

 

Harry looks up at her. A roaring fills his ears. Darkness is filling his vision, like shadows creeping into the edges of his eyes and slowly swirling into the centre of his vision so they can embrace each other. 

 

”Mr Potter”, Umbridge says sharply. ”You may leave!”

 

He bends down to grab his bag and stands up from the rickety chair on shaky legs.

 

 _Just go,_ he tells himself. _Get out of here. She’s not worth it, just go._


	36. Chapter 2

”What happened to your hand?” Draco asks him the next morning, as they’re sitting down for breakfast. 

 

Harry glances at the back of his hand in panic, expecting to see the words _’I must not tell lies’_ still carved into the skin there, but the only thing visible is a relatively subtle streak of red where the skin is irritated and he swallows a sigh of relief. 

 

”Nothing”, he lies smoothly and reaches for the coffee to disguise the tremor in his fingers. ”Probably just scratched it in my sleep or something…”

 

Draco frowns slightly, but doesn’t question the explanation and by the time they’re making their way to Transfiguration he seems to have forgotten all about it. 

 

 _I wish I could,_ Harry thinks to himself, glancing at the blush on his hand for the umpteenth time. 

 

As he drags his feet towards Toady’s office for his second sitting later that eveing, his stomach is churning unpleasantly with a mixture of dread and hunger, since he’d been too anxious to eat any dinner. 

 

Draco had shot him a worried look when he’d accompanied him and their friends back to the dungeons to drop off his book bag instead of heading straight to the Great Hall, but he’d just shaken his head and given the other boy a small smile of reassurance. 

 

Now, however, as he comes to a stop outside the side door of the Defence Teacher’s Office, he doesn’t think he could stretch his lips into a smile even if his life depended on it. 

 

He raps his knuckles against the door.

 

”Come in”, a by now familiar sickly sweet voice calls out from the other side and his stomach flips. 

 

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Harry pushes the door open. 

 

Professor Umbridge is standing in the middle of the room, wearing taffy pink robes and an awful grin when he shuffles inside.

 

”Good evening, Mr Potter”, she says in her simpering voice. 

 

”Evening”, Harry mutters and looks down. 

 

He walks over to the small table where a fresh piece of parchment and the long black quill are laid out for him and plops down on the rickety chair. 

 

” _Hem, hem_ …”

 

He ignores the pointed cough and grabs the quill, desperate to get the detention over with so that he can get out of here. 

 

Even though he’s expecting the sharp sting and is determined not to let Toady get any satisfaction from watching his discomfort, Harry still sucks in a sharp breath at the sudden stab of pain. It’s a lot more intense than the first cut of the previous evening had been and, he notices with a subtle glance, it doesn’t heal immediately this time either. 

 

With a sinking feeling, he realises that there’s no way he’ll be walking out of here with an umblemished hand tonight.

 

”Problem?” Umbridge says. 

 

Harry doesn’t reply. With another steeling breath, he puts the quill to the parchment and writes. 

 

Just as he’d suspected, it’s with a red raw hand that he makes his way back to the dungeons three hours later. Umbridge had interrupted him an hour earlier tonight, not out of kindness or mercy, but simply because that’s the amount of time it took Harry to create a deep enough cut in his hand. 

 

It’s not bleeding anymore, but the _’I’_ and the word _’lies’_ are still somewhat visible on the edges of the patch of raw skin. 

 

_How am I going to hide it from Draco?_

 

Well, he isn’t — is the answer. There’s no way he possibly could. Even if he manages to keep his hand in his pocket without showing any pain or discomfort on his face, at some point he’s going to have to get ready for bed and change into his pyjamas, after all… and even if Draco opts for his own bed tonight (which is becoming a rarer and rarer occurrance), he’ll still be right next to Harry. 

 

 _Better to just show him and get it over with,_ Harry decides. 

 

So as soon as Draco’s eyes narrow and he snatches Harry’s hand from where he’s holding it gingerly in front of him, and holds it up for a better look, Harry sighs and tells him everything. 

 

” _What?_ ” Draco says sharply, his narrowed eyes flitting up to Harry’s and flashing furiously. ”She’s making you use a _blood quill?_ ”

 

”Yeah…”

 

”Yesterday too? _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ”

 

”I didn’t want to… worry you”, Harry mutters. 

 

”You’ve got to show Professor Snape!”

 

”No—” Harry starts to protest, but the blonde just huffs out a furious breath and clamps his hand around Harry’s wrist and physically hauls him out of the Common Room again. ”Draco, _wait—!_ ”

 

”Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” the blonde snaps. 

 

He continues to pull Harry down the corridor and Harry stumbles after him, trying not to trip over his own feet. They come to a thundering stop outside their Head of House’s office and Draco starts off by rapping his knuckles against the door but, when nothing happens immediately, he bangs his whole fist against it with such force the wood trembles against the hinges. 

 

They hear the muffled sound of apporaching footsteps from behind the door and Draco quickly jumps back, before it swings open with a groan. 

 

Professor Snape glares back at them from the other side of the threshold, the collar of his grey nightshirt sticking up behind his black robes. 

 

” _What?_ ” he hisses. 

 

”Professor”, Draco says importantly. ”Professor Umbridge has just put Harry through two _torturous_ detentions—”

 

”Yes, she’s well in her right to do so”, Professor Snape snaps. ”Please tell me you did not just risk detention by breaking curfew, so that you could come and complain about having to serve detentions?”

 

”Sir, you don’t understand—!”

 

”Professor Umbridge is a professor and she has a right to dole out detentions as she sees fit—”

 

”Sir—!”

 

”—There is nothing I can do about it. Now go to bed—!”

 

”SIR—!”

 

” _What?_ ”

 

” _Look!_ ” Draco exclaims and tugs on Harry’s arm, holding the hand up for the Potions Master to see. ”She’s making him do lines — _with_ _a blood quill!_ ”

 

Professor Snape’s black eyes flicker down to Harry’s hand and widen as they come to rest on the patch of raw skin. His face drains of what little colour it had to start with and he takes a deep breath. 

 

”I see…” he murmurs. ”I will… I will talk to the Headmaster in the morning… Harry?”

 

Harry jerks his head up and meets the Potions Master’s gaze. 

 

”Is it… are you still in pain?”

 

”Not really”, Harry mumbles. ”It’s all right…”

 

The man’s eyes narrow again. 

 

”It stings a bit, I guess”, Harry mutters. 

 

”One moment…” Snape murmurs and turns away. 

 

He disappears into his office and returns a moment later with some kind of salve that he hands to Draco, with instructions on how to rub it into the affected skin. The blonde nods seriously. 

 

”I can do it myself”, Harry protests feebly, but they both ignore him.

 

The walk back to the Common Room at the other end of the corridor is quiet, both boys shuffling along with their heads bowed. Harry gives the blonde a sideway glance. He seems to be deep in thought, his grey eyes glaring daggers at the stone floor in front of him but not really seeing it. 

 

When they walk through the passage into the Common Room, it’s mostly deserted save for a few Seventh Years huddled together in front of the fire, still studying furiously whereas the Fifth Years seem to have called it a night. Wordlessly, Draco leads Harry to the boys’s dormitory as well. 

 

Seamus, Blaise and Theo are still awake when they walk inside, but they quickly disappear behind the hangings of their respective beds after giving Harry pinched smiles in greeting. 

 

Draco leads Harry to the space between their own beds and promptly pushes him to sit down on the edge of his, before he uncorks the small glass jar Professor Snape gave him and scoops up a generous amount of salve on two of his fingers. 

 

”Give me your hand…” he says quietly. 

 

He gently massages the salve into the abused skin on Harry’s hand, his face a mask of intense concentration and his breathing shallow. Harry finds himself unconsciously matching each breath and getting slightly light-headed. 

 

The fingertips that have been drawing soothing circles over the back of Harry’s hand still suddenly and for a moment, Draco simply holds his hand in both of his own.

 

”How does it feel?” he whispers. 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

”Okay?” the blonde adds. 

 

Harry nods. 

 

”Ye-eah, thanks…” he croaks. 

 

A small smile flickers onto the blonde’s face and he leans down to capture Harry’s lips with his own in a sweet, shallow kiss. 

 

He pulls away again and Harry almost topples over, trying to prolong the kiss. 

 

”Careful…” Draco says with a smirk. 

 

He finally lets go of Harry’s hand again and walks over to his trunk at the end of the bed. Harry frowns, watching him select a pair of pyjamas from inside. 

 

”I can dress myself”, he says. 

 

”Fine. I’ll just help you with the sleeve…”

 

”No, really, you don’t have to…”

 

”I know I don’t _have to_ ”, Draco mutters. ”But will you just let me?”

 

”Fine”, Harry sighs and stands up again. 

 

He pulls his robes over his head and lets out a small hiss of pain as the rough material scratches the cut on his hand, which he hopes the other boy didn’t hear… but as he drops the robes to the floor and looks up, Draco is watching him with fiery eyes. Harry swallows another sigh and lets his hands fall to his sides. 

 

Draco kills the distance between them in a flash and unknots his tie with deft fingers, before continuing with the buttons on his shirt.

 

After he’s carefully pulled both the shirt and Harry’s undershirt off, he gingerly helps him to thread his arm through the sleeve of the pyjama top as well, but as soon as that is on, Harry steps back from him with a mumbled thanks and reaches for the pyjama bottoms. 

 

”You’re welcome”, Draco murmurs, turning away to change into his own pyjamas. 

 

 _If you can even_ call _it a pyjamas,_ Harry thinks wryly, watching him with fond eyes. The silky bottoms are quite pyjama-like, he supposes. But the top looks more like a sleeveless blouse than anything.

 

Not that he’s complaining. It’s tailored to fit the blonde’s frame perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination… 

 

”Why don’t you take a photograph…” 

 

Harry immediately drags his eyes back up to the blonde’s face again and returns his small smile, blushing a little at having been caught oogling. 

 

”It will last longer”, the blonde adds with a smirk. 

 

Harry’s mind flashes back to the moment when his dad showed him the old photograph of his daddy that he’d taken when they were the same age as Harry and Draco are now.

 

_I’m regretting that Permanent Sticking Charm now. That’s my favourite picture of your daddy and I can’t take it with me…_

 

”Harry?”

 

”Yeah…” he says, blinking the memory away and smiling. ”You know, I just might. I have a space for one right here…”

 

He points to the small space between his Tornados poster and the Christmas Card Draco sent him in First Year. 

 

”Sap…” Draco mutters, his lips twitching fondly. ”Come on…”

 

Harry’s smile falls as the other boy moves back towards his bed and pulls the covers back. 

 

”Ehm, actually, Draco… it’s… um…”

 

Draco gives him a confused frown.

 

”It’s a nightmare night…”

 

”Oh…” the blonde’s face smooths out and he sidles up to Harry, gently nestling his arms around his middle and nuzzling the side of his neck. ”I know…”

 

”Draco…” Harry sighs. ”It really isn’t fair on you to keep doing this. We don’t have to sleep together all the time…”

 

”We don’t.”

 

”No, I know, but…”

 

”But nothing. I want to sleep with you tonight.”

 

Whatever else protest Harry might have tried is quickly smothered as the blonde captures his lips in another kiss. Harry pushes at his chest weakly, but it quickly turns into an embrace and before long he’s snaked his arms around the other boy’s body and is pulling on him rather desperately. 

 

The blonde starts to back towards the bed, pulling Harry with him. They both tumble onto the bed in a heap of sprawling limbs, without once breaking their lip-lock. 

 

”Silencing Charm!” Blaise calls out from his bed across the room. 

 

Harry and Draco finally break the kiss and dissolve into peels of hushed giggles. 

 

” _Seriously!_ ” Blaise calls out again.

 

”All right!” Draco calls back. 

 

They pull the hangings closed around the bed and Draco casts the Charm quickly, before dropping his wand to the floor and reaching for Harry again. 

 

Harry’s chuckle sticks in his throat when he catches the glint in the other boy’s eyes and he licks his lips quickly, before meeting him halfway.

 

Harry sears their mouths together in a feverish kiss and clutches the blonde’s shoulders, desperate for closeness and friction. Draco allows himself to pulled and presses his body against Harry’s with sensuous slowness that makes Harry’s blood boil. But no matter how frantically he paws at the other boy or how hard he tries to deepen their kiss, Draco is determined to set an excruciatingly slow pace. 

 

He keeps their kisses sweet, but shallow and soon, he’s darting away from Harry’s eager mouth altogether, trailing his lips in a feathery soft path down the side of his neck instead. 

 

When he keeps going, kissing his way down Harry’s chest while shimmying down the bed until he’s settled between his legs, Harry’s breath catches in his throat and his heart begins to pound, out of excitement or panic or both, Harry isn’t sure.

 

His mind flashes to the young qizards in the illustrations in the book Remus gave him, frantically trying to remember everything they did and how… and he curses himself for not having looked in the book for weeks, he should have been refreshing his memory, he should have been revising, he should —

 

”Relax…” Draco murmurs, planting a feathery kiss on Harry’s hipbone and suddenly Harry’s feverish thoughts are Vanished quicker than Draco’s snail in Transfiguration. ”I _think_ I know what I’m doing…”

 

Harry lets out a strangled chuckle and when his mind whirls up again to wonder if Narcissa ever gave Draco the talk, or presented him with any books on the matter, he promptly stomps it down again. It’s not in the book, that he knows of, but Harry is pretty sure there must be at least one unwritten rule about not thinking of your partner’s parents while he’s about to… _about to… oh Merlin…_

 

Draco has snuck his fingers into the waistband of Harry’s pyjama bottoms and his pants and with a confident movement, he pulls them both past his eagerly throbbing cock and down his legs, before discarding both somewhere in the darkness. 

 

Blonde strands of hair tickle his abdomen as Draco ducks his head to give the inside of Harry’s thigh a teasing lick, right where it connects with his groin.

 

”You know, there’s a second purpose to the Silencing Charm”, Draco says. ”You don’t have to keep quiet…”

 

”Wh-what?” Harry gasps, blinking frantically to somehow lure some blood back to his head so that he can get his thoughts to function properly again, because for some ridiculous reason Draco is _talking_.

 

”I want to _hear_ you”, Draco repeats slowly, his silver eyes nearly black as he pins Harry with a heated look. 

 

”O-oh… Ehm… whaa… what would you like me t-to say… then…?”

 

Harry could have sworn the blonde just rolled his eyes at him, but it happened so quickly it could just have been a trick of the light. Draco’s smirk twitches a little, but Harry blinks and the other boy is just as serious as before again. 

 

”I didn’t mean it like that”, Draco says and there’s an oddly soothing quality to his voice. ”But I’ve never done this before, so I want you to talk me through it—”

 

” _I’ve_ never done it before either!” Harry splutters. 

 

”Merlin…” Draco huffs and readjusts his weight on his elbows, before quite clearly rolling his eyes. ”I know that, Harry. I _meant…_ talk me through what you like and don’t like — direct me!”

 

”Oh… well, I… I don’t know, do I?”

 

”You will in a minute…” Draco says with a smirk. 

 

He then dips his head again and this time, it’s the base of Harry’s cock that gets a lick. Any hope Harry might have had of regaining his ability to think straight flutters out the window. 

 

How Draco expects him to be able to carry out _an actual conversation_ when he does things like _that_ to him, is beyond Harry. 

 

The blonde drags his tongue up the length of his cock and then gives the head a small kiss. 

 

”How about…” Draco murmurs, his hot breath warming the wet skin before he moves away again. ”If you like what I’m doing, make a noise… _any_ noise… and if you _don’t_ like something—”

 

”Give your hair a good tug?” Harry gasps. 

 

”Don’t you dare!”

 

Harry chuckles breathlessly and just to reassure the blonde, he reaches out and gently combs his fingers through what silky strands he can reach. 

 

Draco tilts his head and plants a soft kiss to the inside of Harry’s wrist. And just like that, both the hurry and the awkwardness drain from the moment, leaving it heavy with affection instead. So heavy, it almost makes it hard for Harry suck some air into his lungs. 

 

He peers down at Draco, who smiles up at him from his sprawling position draped over Harry’s legs and resting his chin on his hipbone… face mere inches away from… but Harry doesn’t even feel weird about it anymore, doesn’t feel an impulse to cover up tug on him or anything. 

 

”All right, enough chit chat”, Draco says decisively, puncturing the moment again. 

 

He gives Harry a teasing smirk as he pushes himself up on his elbows again, but then he’s dipping his head again and Harry’s eyelids flutter closed of their own accord as the sensation of fluttery heat suddenly covers his abdomen. 

 

 _Kisses_ , his oxygen-deprived brain supplies seconds too late. 

 

Then there’s a wet heat _all around_ him and his brain can’t form coherent words at all, but conjures up images instead… a whole whirlwind of swirling images as the wet heat tightens and _squeezes_ him — so hot, so tight, it almost hurts, _almost —_ then there’s more swirling, but not inside his head, but all around him… 

 

Harry’s body is on fire, and for a confused moment he tries to pinpoint whether he’s burning from the skin in, or from the blood out… 

 

Currents of tickling, crackling pleasure run up and down his veins, every nerve-ending exploding, over and over… 

 

His abdomen tightens with pulsing pressure and for some reason, Harry manages to create enough presence of mind to think he needs to warn the other boy… but not enough presence of mind to _actually warn him_ … before relentless and painfully intense waves of pleasure ripple through his body. Crashing, crushing waves of pleasure, that pull him down. And he’s drowning, drowning in sensation. 

 

When it all ebbs away again, Harry’s gasping for breath like he really has been drowning. 

 

He feels feathery soft kisses flutter up his abdomen and sternum, like a little butterfly making its way up his body. Blinking his eyes open, Harry catches it between his nipple and his collarbone — or rather, he grabs Draco’s head and brings it forcefully up to meet his own — capturing the other boy’s mouth in a bruising kiss. 

 

Draco’s fingers dig into the muscles of Harry’s arms, hard enough to bruise and it anchors him.

 

That’s what they were talking about, when they talked about seeing stars, he thinks faintly. Except it was nothing like stars, at all. Stars are faraway things. This, this was like lightening. Lightening from the inside out. 

 

He slowly softens the kiss again, letting his fingers slacken around the other boy’s head and gently massages his skull through his hair instead. 

 

Draco finally breaks the kiss completely, but lets his forehead stay connected Harry’s. He’s breathing hard now too.

 

”How…” he swallows thickly. ”How… was it…?”

 

”Brilliant”, Harry murmurs. ”Best ever.”

 

Draco chuckles breathlessly. 

 

”I know what you’re going to say”, Harry mutters. 

 

” _First and only ever?_ ” Draco guesses. 

 

”But I didn’t mean _that_ … I meant _all_ of it…”

 

”…Oh”, Draco says in a small voice. ”Really?”

 

”Mmm… definitely… I love you.”

 

”I know”, the other boy mumbles, settling down next to Harry instead and cuddling up to him. ”I love you too.”

 

Harry shifts slightly, bringing his arm around the other boy’s body and hugging him close to his chest. He nuzzles his hairline absently, happy to breathe in the subtle scent of his coconut shampoo and the other indistinct scent that is just pure _Draco_. 

 

”My turn?” he says, even as he feels his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. 

 

”Mmm… next time…” the other boy mumbles, already half-asleep. 

 

Harry smiles, then feels himself begin to drift off as well and the smile falls as prickling anxiety begins to creep in instead, reminding him of where he’s going, since it’s a nightmare night… _not yet, I’m not ready,_ he thinks, hugging Draco closer, desperate to stay here in this moment. _I don’t want to leave yet._

 

Darkness wraps around them like a warm and smooth blanket and Harry blinks, stubbornly trying to stay awake by trying to make anything out. But even though he feels Draco’s lithe body cradled between his body and his arm, he can’t make out his form in the pitch blackness. 

 

Suddenly stars break through the blanket, twinkling down at him… blinking the sleep from his eyes and squinting up at the dim lights fluttering around above his head, Harry realises they’re not stars at all, they’re butterflies… beautiful, golden butterflies… 

 

He smiles, watching the many golden wings flutter, creating the twinkling effect… especially when each wing is reflected in the black tiles all around the butterflies as well… like so many flames, burning along the black-tiled wall of the long corridor… _wait…_

 

Harry twists around, feeling his body in confusion. The bed clothes are gone, as is the bed itself and Draco. He is standing alone in the middle of a dark corridor, no longer wearing his unbuttoned pyjama top but rather regular robes. 

 

He knows he should go look for Draco, but something is tugging on him… pulling him towards the door at the end of the corridor… _I know this place,_ he thinks faintly. _I’ve been here before._

 

_I know that door._

 

Walking slowly towards it, Harry stares at the sleek, dark wood and a _longing_ such as he’s never felt before suddenly fills him, an overwhelming _need_ to open the door and _get to the other side_ … 

 

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Harry reaches out and grips the doorknob —

 

_”Harry… Harry, wake up…”_

 

Harry groans. _He’s so close…_

 

_”Harry!”_

 

”Yeahh…” he croaks, pressing his face into his pillow and trying to chase the dream, but it’s gone. 

 

_”Come on, wake up…”_

 

Harry turns over onto his back and blinks his eyes open, only to be blinded by the green light spilling in from the window next to the bed. Squinting through it, he looks up at the blonde, blurry blob leaning over him. 

 

He stretches lazily and takes a deep breath, getting a whiff of coconut.

 

”You had a bath already?” he mumbles. 

 

”Shower”, Draco says. ”Come on, get up. I’m starving.”

 

”I bet you are”, Seamus shouts from his own bed and a chorus of snickers erupts around the dorm. 

 

”Shut it, Finnigan!” Draco shouts back. ”You’re just jealous!”

 

”Nah, he’s not my type”, the Irish boy quips. 

 

Harry huffs out a chuckle and pushes himself up to sitting, reaching blindly for his spectacles. Draco presses them into his hand and Harry gives him a small smile of _thanks_ as soon as he’s got them on and the other boy’s smiling face comes into focus finally. 

 

”How did you sleep?” he asks softly. ”You didn’t wake me up once… no nightmares?”

 

”No…” Harry murmurs, flattening his hair absent-mindedly. ”Just a dream…”

 

”That’s good”, Draco says, turning away. ”Come on, let’s go get breakfast!”

 

 

*

 

In the Common Room, during their free period before dinner, working on their mountains of homework. 

 

 

 

Harry watches out of the corner of his eye as Draco quickly scribbles something in his Dream Diary, then tosses it on top of the _Finished_ pile.

 

”Did you get another snippet?” he asks. 

 

The blonde meets his eyes briefly, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

”You never told me the rest of your dream”, Harry adds. 

 

”Yes, I did”, Draco mumbles, flicking the pages of his Potions book. ”I can’t believe Professor Snape set us another essay — we _just_ handed one in!”

 

”I know”, Seamus grouses, glaring even harder at the pages of his own Potions book. ”This year is going to be torture!”

 

”No, you didn’t”, Harry says. 

 

”What?” Draco mumbles absent-mindedly, skimming over the pages of the book and making a couple of quick notes. 

 

”You didn’t tell me the rest of your dream—”

 

”I did”, Draco snaps. ”That was it — I told you, I don’t have long, detailed dreams like you!”

 

”You don’t know what dreams I have”, Harry snaps right back. 

 

”Guys, don’t fight…” Pansy says tiredly. ”Or if you must, go do it somewhere else. If I don’t get the hang of this stupid spell, McGonagall is going to rip me to shreds — and Granger will have a field day watching! — _Evanesco!_ _EV-AN-ESCO!_ Damn it…”

 

Harry gives the girl a sidelong look, then glances at the twitching Chocolate Frog leg on the table in front of her, that is no closer to being Vanished now than when she’d started hurling the spell at it a quarter of an hour ago. 

 

”Sorry, Pans…” Draco mumbles. ”We’ll be quiet…”

 

”Oh, will we”, Harry mutters. 

 

”Look, I just dreamt that I was in the ocean, okay? _That’s it!_ ” Draco hisses. 

 

”Just _in_ the ocean—?”

 

”Yes!”

 

”Just floating around in the—?”

 

” _Yes!_ ”

 

”Feeling… what, happy? At peace—?”

 

”No, I didn’t feel ’at peace’ _,_ I’ll have you know”, Draco grits out. ”I felt the very opposite of ’at peace’ _,_ since _I was drowning!_ There! Are you happy now?”

 

Harry doesn’t say anything else, just watches calmly as Draco slumps back into the armchair with a frustrated huff and hides his face behind the Potions book. 

 

It shouldn’t bother him that Draco doesn’t jump at the opportunity to tell him about his dreams, and it doesn’t bother him exactly. But he can’t help but feel a little curious, when the other boy so obviously goes to great lengths to avoid telling him about them. 

 

Because one thing that does bother Harry, is that Draco still hasn’t told him about his summer since he implied that there actually is something _to_ tell — all he’s said is that he spent the whole summer holidaying with his mother, but he hasn’t said one word about Lucius or where he stands with his father after what happened during the Triwizard Tournament, just told Harry that _he’ll tell him later_ — and Harry can’t help but wonder if the other boy’s dreams are somehow plagued by whatever might have happened between him and his father, like Harry’s own traumatic memories are haunting his dreams… that’s all…

 

He’s noticed a change in his boyfriend’s attitude towards their relationship, of course. Draco still won’t hold hands or kiss outside of the Slytherin Common Room, but Harry is pretty sure the students in the other houses will be able to work it out anyway, when the blonde sits so close to Harry in the Great Hall and the library that they’re practically draped over each other, and he’s sure Draco must realise this as well, so he obviously doesn’t care if people know… 

 

 _But still._  

 

Harry would really prefer to know _exactly_ where they stand and, more specifically, where Draco stands with his father — is Draco even safe to go home to Malfoy Manor for Christmas? Or should Harry invite him home to Creirwy’s Hollow?

 

He doesn’t think Draco’s mysterious dreams about the ocean will necessarily answer all of these questions for him, exactly. But curiosity is clawing at him all the same, so when he’s sure the blonde isn’t looking, Harry reaches for his copy of _The Dream Oracle_ and, ignoring Dapne’s look of incredulity and the looks of exasperation on Pansy’s and Blaise’s faces, flicks the pages to ’D’.

 

Pansy gives him a gentle kick under the table and he looks up. His friends are all staring at him in varying degrees of frustration.  

 

 _What?_ he mouths. 

 

Pansy just rolls her eyes and goes back to her Chocolate Frog leg, while Blaise gives him a sour look, but it quickly morphs into a thoughtful expression as he glances down at the Divination book. Harry smirks at his friend. _Yeah, that’s right,_ he thinks. _Get off your high hippogriff, you want to know as well_ —

 

”What are you two making eyes at each other for?” Draco snaps suspisciously. 

 

The two boys jump and quickly tear their eyes away from each other, Harry snapping the _Dream Oracle_ shut and hastily pulling his Transfigurations essay closer to him.

 

He decides to give it another day or two, but if the blonde still hasn’t opened up by then, Harry will confront him and ask him about it.

 

 

*

 

If the threat of expulsion and Professor Snape’s reprimand, which reminded Harry of his promise to his dads to stay out of trouble this year, weren’t enough to strengthen his resolve to keep his head down and stay off Umbridge’s radar, then these nightly detentions surely are… as Harry averts his eyes from the woman’s wide, cold grin and slumps into the straight-backed chair for the third night in a row, feeling like he’s stuck in some nightmarish vicious circle, he can help but think that he’d do anything not to have to come back here again — _I’ll even stand up in front of everyone in the Great Hall and tell them Voldemort is a figment of my imagination!_

 

Except…

 

 _No, no, I won’t,_ he thinks and, with a heavy sigh, he plucks the black quill from the table in front of him and begins to write. 

 

It’s by far the worst detention yet. When Harry is finishing up the fourth line, the words are already cut deeply into his skin and he’s bleeding freely down the side of his hand, spattering both the parchment and the lace table cloth, that are steadily becoming a morbid dot work of blood drops. 

 

He tries not to look at the clock on the wall opposite, mostly because Umbridge is sitting right underneath it and if he looks at the clock, she’s in his peripheral and he’s reminded that she’s watching him with wide, keen eyes, but also because every time he looks at the clock, sure that at least an hour has passed since the last time he looked, he discovers it’s only been a few more minutes. 

 

An hour and a half into the detention, Harry’s hand is throbbing and he can barely grip the quill anymore. The words on the parchment swim before his eyes, taunting him… stinging, hot tears keep welling up in his eyes and he blinks desperately. 

 

Giving the clock another glance, Harry grits his teeth… _one hour and thirty-five minutes… only twenty-five minutes left…_

 

But when the clock strikes seven, Umbridge remains seated behind her desk and simply smiles sweetly at him when he shoots her an expectant look and he realises she let him go an hour earlier the night before just so he’d expect to be relieved two hours earlier tonight, just so she could watch the disappointment in his eyes… clenching his jaw, Harry ducks his head again and glares at the parchment. 

 

”Problem, Mr Potter?” Umbridge says softly. 

 

Harry’s vision blurs and this time when he blinks, fat tears fall from his eyes and splatter on the parchment. He watches with mild fascination as one of the drops soaks into the last word he’s written, the _’i’_ in _’lies’_ fading and becoming a pink smudge.

 

”Oh, let’s have a look then…”

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the growing tear stain as it keeps eating up the rest if the word and looks up at the professor. She stands up and round her desk, walking over to him slowly and extending her hand with a cool smile. Harry swallows thickly and lets the blood quill tumble from his stiff fingers and lets the woman grab his pounding hand with her short, chubby fingers.

 

He can’t help but notice that she’s very careful not to get any blood on her many rings when she grips his hand, but as soon as their hands touch, Harry’s thoughts are immediately distracted by a searing pain — not in his hand, but the scar on his forehead — and he gasps and snatches his hand back again, stumbling to his feet. 

 

”Yes…” Umbridge says quietly. ”It hurts, doesn’t it…”

 

Harry stares at her. His heart is beating a tattoo in his chest and his scar is still stinging. Does she know? Is that what she meant?

 

The woman’s wide mouth stretches into another awful grin. 

 

”I think… you’ve learned your lesson, Mr Potter… isn’t that right?”

 

”Y-yeah…” Harry says, feeling like he’s been running for miles. ”Yes, ma’am.”

 

”Very good… you may go.”

 

Harry almost stumbles over his own feet in his haste to get out of the office. The pain in his head has faded to a dull throbbing, but his scar definitely hurt when Umbridge touched him… it’s only ever done that when Voldemort’s been nearby… _what does that mean, though?_ he thinks frantically. _Is Umbridge a Death Eater?_

 

 _She’s evil enough to be one, that’s for sure,_ Harry thinks darkly as he cradles his injured hand gently to his chest. 

 

As soon as he steps inside the Common Room, Draco shoots to his feet and hurries over to meet him, the salve Professor Snape gave them clutched in his hand. As he stares down at the bleeding cut on Harry’s hand, his face pales to bone white and when he gingerly positions the hand on top of his own palm and begins to dab salve against the wound, Harry can tell his hands are shaking slightly. 

 

Despite Draco being careful and barely even touching the cut with his own fingertips, the contact with the salve stings before the magical properties of the salve begins to work and Harry bites the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing in pain, and by the time Draco has finished, a metallic taste has filled his mouth. 

 

Draco looks up and finally meets his gaze and Harry feels a stab in his chest at the pain he can see in the other boy’s eyes, so he forces himself to smile.

 

”It’s over now”, he murmurs. 

 

Draco swallows and blinks a suspiscious sheen from his eyes, nodding. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on the corner of Harry’s mouth, then grabs his uninjured hand and leads him over to the table where their friends are sitting. 

 

Pansy and Daphne jump up and give him a couple of quick, one-armed hugs and he gives them a pinched smile, before sinking down next to Draco on the love seat and meeting the other boys’ eyes. For once, neither Seamus or Blaise are smirking. It makes Harry feel awkward, but it also makes the whole situation feel worse. 

 

”That hag…” Seamus grouses. ”Someone ought to teach _her_ a lesson…”

 

”Professor Snape said he’d talk to the Headmaster”, Draco says. 

 

”He won’t be able to do anything about it”, Blaise murmurs. ”Come on, be realistic… think Dumbledore wanted her here in the first place? The Ministry isn’t in Dumbledore’s pocket anymore, so if they want to interfere with Hogwarts, there’s nothing he’ll be able to do about it.”

 

”But if the parents found out”, Seamus says. 

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest… if his dads find out… 

 

”Then maybe something will happen”, Blaise consents. ”If enough parents get together and protest, that will put some pressure on the Ministry… or if the _right_ parents protest”, he adds, shooting Draco a sideways glance. ”Someone who is also on the Board of Gouvernors.”

 

Draco says nothing, just grips Harry’s hand a little tighter and glares at the table in front of him. 

 

 

*

 

It’s another grey day and a light drizzle has begun to fall when Harry and Draco trudge down to the Quidditch pitch for the try-outs. They’d asked Seamus if he wanted to come as well, but the Irish boy had said there was no point now that Harry was allowed to play again, even with half the positions opening up due to half the team graduating last year, the only position he’d really have a chance at was that of the third Chaser and with Harry back as Seeker, there’s no way Flint won’t give the Chaser position to Draco. 

 

”If you’re sure”, Harry had said with a shrug, but he’d secretly agreed with his friend, because if he was the Team Captain, that’s what he would do as well.

 

It turns out they’d both been right, because Flint doesn’t even ask Harry and Draco to try out, just tells them what their positions are and then demands they warm up so that they can help try the others out. Harry and Draco exchange a look, but quickly mount their brooms. Harry gives the blonde a subtle wink, before kicking off with a smirk. 

 

With the wind rushing past him, his stomach swooping and Draco close on his tail, Harry almost forgets about Umbridge and the scar on the back of his hand. Almost. 

 

Flint calls them back to the ground after half an hour and they touch down next to him and Adrian, eyeing the potential team mates lined up in front of them curiously. To Harry’s chagrine, Crabbe and Goyle are amongst the hopeful applicants, standing out for two reason… their size for one (they’re at least twice as wide as the biggest of the other boys and a head taller than him too) and secondly, whereas the other boys and Millicent (the only girl trying out for the team, again), have the sort of sharp look about them that you get just before an exam or a daunting task, Crabbe and Goyle look as vacant as ever. 

 

There’s no way Flint will put them on the team, Harry thinks. Even Flint wouldn’t go for brute strength over tactic and wit, not even for the team’s Beaters…

 

Turn out, that’s _exactly_ what Flint would… 

 

Harry grumbles about it all the way back to the castle and Draco listens patiently, but when Harry hurls a passive-aggressive _right?_ at him, he just shrugs. 

 

”Are you serious?” Harry demands. 

 

”They’re not _that_ bad…” Draco says, then rolls his eyes when Harry gives him an incredulous stare. ”I mean, I’m not saying they’re great conversationalists or anything… but they’ll make decent Beaters!”

 

 _Of course,_ Harry thinks wryly, flashing back to First Year when Draco had _’strategically befriended’_ the two brutish boys for physical protection. Draco is obviously less worried about being a Chaser now that Crabbe and Goyle are Beaters, thinking they’ll have his back. 

 

”It won’t do you any good that they can beat a bludger hard enough to break both broom and limbs, if they’re too stupid to aim it _away_ from you”, Harry says pointedly. 

 

The relief in Draco’s eyes simmer down significantly after that, but he stubbornly tells Harry he’s exaggerating. 

 

”They are not… that… bad”, he says slowly, enunciating each syllable sharply. 

 

”If you say so”, Harry mutters. 

 

”I do”, Draco says stubbornly, snatching the last word.

 

Harry rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. Not until they’re getting ready for bed a while later. 

 

”Draco…”

 

”It’s fine, we’re okay.”

 

”No, it’s not that…”

 

”What, then?” the blonde mutters, squeezing into one of his impossibly tight pyjama tops and peering over at Harry with a wary frown. 

 

”Did you… did you ever talk to…” he takes a deep breath and pushes it out again in a forceful sigh, letting some of his nervousness and frustration wash out of him on the back of it. ”Did you talk to Lucius?”

 

Something about the other boy’s posture, how he seems to just _still_ , tells Harry he’s just entered a [mine field] and he lowers himself slowly to sit on the edge of his bed to wait, _don’t push, don’t push…_

 

”What?” Draco says after a too-long pause. 

 

”Did you talk? Before you and Narcissa went to France? Or after you got back?”

 

”We talked. Briefly.”

 

Harry swallows thickly, and nods. Another pause stretches out between them. _Don’t push,_ he tells himself again. But the blonde is avoiding his eyes now and it doesn’t look like he’s about to elaborate anytime soon… Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but before he’s thought of another question (clear enough to demand a straight answer, but not so demanding it will push the blonde away), Draco speaks again, after all.

 

”Or rather, he talked and I listened. It wasn’t exactly a discussion.”

 

 _What does that mean?_ Harry thinks in frustration. 

 

Draco turns away and mumbles something about being exhausted, then crawls under the covers in his four-poster and turns his back to Harry, who feels a stab of pain in the near vicinity of his heart as he stares at the curve of the other boy’s neck. 

 

His own four-poster bed feels awfully big and cold when he curls up in it. He really wishes he had some Dreamless Sleep, but his next dose isn’t for another two nights… 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, everyone: I'm in Sweden for the month of August and super busy (I have a writing deadline plus working as an actress on a week long writing lab) which means this might be the last update in a while. (But maybe not!) 
> 
> Thanks for your continued patience with me and for all your lovely comments! <3


	37. The High Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbridge continues to terrorise Hogwarts, and the Slytherins are at the end of their rope...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back!! 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait -- I spent over a month in Sweden with barely a moment to sit down, and then I had a couple of weeks intense work here in London, followed by a week's VERY intense writing lab in Berlin, and now I'm back in London with way too many deadlines piled up on me, but I finally found the time to sit down and type up this chapter!

 

When Harry returns to the dorm after having washed up for bed, he discovers the other boys discussing ways of getting back at Umbridge on his behalf and can’t help but feel a surge of fondness for them. He settles down next to Draco on his bed and listens as Seamus finishes off what sounds like a very elaborate, but also reckless prank involving chocolate frogs with transfigured fangs… Blaise whacks the Irish boy in the face with his pillow to shut him up finally and everyone else snickers.

 

”What?” Seamus demands. 

 

”Like you know how to transfigure chocolate fangs! If you don’t have anything useful to say, shut up!”

 

”Fine”, Seamus bristles. ” _You_ come up with something then!”

 

”We could transfigure _her_ into a chocolate frog”, Crabbe grunts.

 

”And then eat it”, Goyle adds eagerly. 

 

”Ehm… how about… no…” Draco says slowly, frowning uncomfortably at the two boys as they shrug in unison and go back to wolfing down the crumpets and biscuits they’d managed to sneak into their pockets at dinner.

 

”Harry, you said she collects decorative plates?” Blaise says suddenly. ”With kittens on them?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. ”She has at least fifty of them on her walls.”

 

”How about…” Blaise says quietly and the others instinctively lean eagerly. ”We break into her office and switch the plates, so that instead of mewling kittens, she’ll be surrounded by _croaking toads_ …”

 

The boys all exchange excited looks (except for Crabbe and Goyle who don’t seem to be listening to the discussion anymore), beaming at each other; not only is the idea hilarious, it’s also quite doable! Everyone turns to Harry for some sort of final say, and he grins widely and nods. 

 

”How are we going to get into her office without her noticing?” Seamus says. 

 

”We’ll need a distraction”, Harry says. 

 

”One that can’t be traced back to any of us”, Blaise adds with a nod. ”I might have an idea…”

 

”What?” Draco asks eagerly. 

 

”I’ll let you know later, if it works out…” the other boy says cryptically. 

 

”Oh, come on!” 

 

” _Later_ ”, Blaise insists stubbornly.

 

Despite it being a nightmare night, Harry doesn’t wake up once during the night, but his sleep is still plagued by unsettling images and by the time Draco shakes him awake the next morning, he feels unrested and oddly weighted down. 

 

The heavy feeling lifts somewhat when they reach ground level and the clear sky can be seen through the many windows they pass on their way to the Great Hall. By the time they settle down at the Slytherin table for breakfast and the enchanted ceiling spreads out beautifully blue over their heads, the feeling has almost completely lifted and Harry feels almost light.

 

”Want to go for a fly after breakfast?” he asks Draco eagerly. 

 

”I think the Quidditch pitch is booked this morning”, Draco says, smirking slightly for some reason and Harry frowns, but opens his mouth to say it doesn’t matter, they can fly somewhere else, but Draco cuts him off, his smirk widening. ”But we can watch the other team practise…”

 

”What?” Harry frowns. ”Why would we—?”

 

Draco shrugs with obviously faked nonchalance. ”It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day indoors—”

 

”Yeah, I know, that’s why I asked you if you wanted to—”

 

” _And_ it might be fun”, Draco interrupts him for a third again and Harry bristles. 

 

Then a thought strikes him and he scowls suspisciously at the blonde. His suspiscions only grow stronger when he glances over at Blaise and Pansy sitting across the table from them, only to discover a matching set of smirks on their faces. 

 

” _Which_ team has got the pitch booked?” he asks.

 

”Ehm… Gryffindor, I think…” Draco says with feigned uncertainty, his grey eyes glittering.

 

”What’s going on?” Harry demands. 

 

”Nothing”, Draco lies, his smirk widening to a grin. ”Only, it might be strategically sound to check out their new Keeper, is all…”

 

” _Strategically sound —_ hang on — who’s Gryffindor’s new Keeper?”

 

Draco finally turns to meet Harry’s gaze and his grin shrinks sligthly, but not entirely. 

 

”It’s Ron, isn’t it?” Harry says. 

 

”Maybe…”

 

”Draco”, Harry says, with a frustrated sigh. ”No. We are not going to mess with Ron—”

 

”Who said anything about messing with anyon—?”

 

”Stop it”, Harry snaps. ”You’re not fooling me!”

 

Draco’s smirk finally falls and turns into a pout. 

 

”No”, Harry says again. ”I want you to leave Ron alone!”

 

”You’re no fun…” the blonde mutters. ”The rest of the team are going. And it wasn’t my idea, you know. Flint—”

 

”I don’t care. _You’re_ not going”, Harry says firmly. 

 

”Why?” Draco demands. 

 

”Because it’s mean and I don’t like that you enjoy it so much”, Harry says plainly. ”Makes me think you’re a mean person, and I don’t like that.”

 

”It was _Flint’s_ idea, not mine”, Draco mumbles, glaring at his porridge. 

 

”Yeah, and _I_ would never date _Flint_ — because he’s _mean!_ ”

 

A tense silence stretches out, but after a while Draco mutters a _fine_ and lets go of his spoon. It clatters into his porridge bowl and a few drops of milk hits Harry in the face. He grimaces and wipes them away, but doesn’t say anything about it. 

 

When they leave the Great Hall, he asks Draco again if he wants to go for a fly, but the blonde sniffs haughtily and says they have too much homework to do. Swallowing a sigh and throwing the blue sky outside the windows a final look of longing, Harry grudgingly agrees to spend the day in the library instead. 

 

He could go flying by himself, of course. But he rather not risk his and Draco’s tiff turn into a proper argument. 

 

As it is, Draco doesn’t speak to him all day, which is equal parts annoying and heartbreaking, but at least they get most of their homework done… and Harry has learned by now that if he sticks close to the blonde, but keeps a low profile and just lets him stew in quiet, he will cool down eventually. And he does this time too. 

 

By the time they make their way from the Great Hall to the Common Room after dinner the tension has completely left the other boy’s shoulders and brow, and as soon as they settle down in one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, he drapes his arm around Harry’s shoulders and cuddles close, nudging the side of Harry’s face with his nose. 

 

”Sorry for being… you know…” he murmurs quietly.

 

Harry immediately turns his face towards the other boy, their noses bumping together, and he gives him a small smile of reassurance before he leans in for a kiss. 

 

It was meant to be quick and chaste, but Draco nestles his fingers in his hair and eagerly deepens it, their lips vibrating against each other as they both moan quietly. Draco gives Harry’s hair a gentle tug that sends a jolt through him and, conscious of their whereabouts, Harry finally breaks the kiss before it gets too heated. 

 

”You’re not still jealous, are you?” he asks in an undertone once they pull apart and then watches warily as the blonde’s eyes immediately shutter. ”You have no reason to be, Draco. None, whatsoever.”

 

The frown on the other boy’s face softens sligthly, but he still doesn’t say anything. 

 

”Draco?” Harry prompts. ”You believe me, don’t you?”

 

”Yeah”, the blonde says immediately, but Harry can’t help but notice a glint of doubt in his eyes. 

 

”Draco…”

 

”Yeah, I believe you”, the other boy says again, looking down with a sigh. ”I do, I just… I can’t help it, okay? It’s not that I don’t trust _you_ , it’s _him_ … I don’t trust _him_ …”

 

”But… Draco, Ron and I haven’t even said two words to each other since school started—!”

 

”I know.”

 

”And I won’t”, Harry says. ”I won’t even say hello to him, if you don’t want me to. I don’t care. I just want you to be happy…”

 

Draco looks up at him again, his grey eyes shining like silver as they bore into Harry’s own. 

 

”I promise…” Harry adds earnestly. 

 

”All right”, Draco says decisively. ”Then I’ll ignore him too. I won’t tease him or make fun of him, or his family, again — unless _he starts it_ …”

 

Harry sighs. 

 

 _Guess that will have to do,_ he thinks and smiles wryly. 

 

He nods. _Deal_.

 

With most of their homework finished already, Harry and Draco enjoys a lazy Sunday with their friends until their evening Quidditch practise. 

 

Flint seems unusually chipper when they gather around him and Harry can only imagine how Ron’s first practise with the Gryffindor team had gone for their Captain to be in such a cheerful mood… but it can’t have been pretty, Harry thinks and he resolutely avoids looking at Draco for the duration of Flint’s pep talk, because he doesn’t want to see the blonde come to the same conclusion, and react to it. 

 

It’s not that Harry doubts Draco’s sincerity when he promised to stop teasing the Gryffindor, but he also doesn’t expect him to stop delighting in the redhead’s misfortunes any time soon and he meant what he said the day before… He really hates it when Draco’s being mean. 

 

Jokes are one thing. Harry is the first person to laugh when Draco does one of his spot-on impersonations or makes an on-point sarcastic comment. But when it’s nasty and cruel, it’s just not funny. Not remotely. 

 

Besides (and Harry would never tell Draco this outright, but…) those are the times when the blonde bears an uncanny resemblance to his father and if it is one thing Harry _hates_ , it’s Lucius Malfoy — if Draco were to turn into his father… 

 

 _But he won’t,_ Harry thinks firmly. _I won’t let him._

 

Finally, after a gruelling four hours of training, Flint calls a halt to the practise and the team trots back to the castle in exhausted silence. Harry and Draco collapse into their respective beds as soon as they get to the dorm and Harry feels his eyelids droop the minute his head hits the pillow, only half aware of Draco in the other bed grunting about how he’s fallen out of love with Quidditch… 

 

_”…Chaser is so much harder than being a Seeker…”_

 

”Mmm…” Harry mumbles, turning his face into his pillow. 

 

And before he can tell Draco _yes,_ when the blonde demands to know if he’s _even listening to him_ , he’s already drifted off into a fitfull sleep. 

 

*

 

It’s with sore muscles but a feeling of deep satisfaction and accomplishment that Harry drags himself out of bed the next morning and he readily returns Draco’s knowing smile as he stretches languidly before changing into his uniform. 

 

The Great Hall is in its usual Monday lull when they sit down for breakfast, but it’s broken in their section of the Slytherin table at least, when Draco slams down his copy of the _Prophet_ and lets out an outraged gasp.

 

”What?” Harry and Pansy echo each other worriedly, both watching the blonde warily as he glares down at the paper. 

 

”Is it about Harry?” Blaise asks in an undertone and cranes hid neck to read the headline on the front page. 

 

Draco shakes his head and leans back, allowing them all to see the front page better. 

 

 

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED _FIRST EVER_ HIGH INQUISITOR!

 

 

”Oh, lovely…” Pansy murmurs coolly. 

 

The others exchange uncomfortable looks, but no-one says anything else. The last remnants of sleepiness has been stomped out of the group, but the mood around the table is far from uplifting. If anything, Harry feels like someone has put a blanket soaked with ice-cold water over his shoulders, weighing him down and chilling him to the bone at the same time. 

 

When Blaise had made comments about Umbridge and her methods being out of Dumbledore’s hands, it hadn’t seemed real to Harry — it had just been another one of the bitter, cynical exaggerations that the other boy was prone to making, but now… _well, now it’s more than real. It’s official._

 

”Well…” Draco mumbles finally, flattening the paper with slightly shaky hands. ”Doesn’t matter… you’ve sat your detentions, Harry. And none of us are going to get in her bad books again, so… doesn’t matter…”

 

”But we’re still on for the — ehm — _interior decorating_ scheme, right?” Seamus whispers. 

 

”Don’t be stupid”, Draco hisses. ”We can’t risk that now!”

 

”Oh, come on… we’ll be really careful, she’ll never know it was us—!”

 

”She might suspect Harry”, Draco counters. 

 

”Not if he’s where she can see him, while the rest of us carry out the prank”, Blaise says lightly, with a small shrug that suggests he doesn’t care either way. 

 

”I’m not getting into trouble again, just so you can have all the fun and carry out the prank without me”, Harry says. 

 

”Obviously, that’s _not_ what I meant”, Blaise shoots back. ”If you’re both in her _office_ , we can hardly do anything to her plates that are also _in her office_ , now can we?”

 

”There’s no point arguing about it”, Draco says. ”Because we’re all going to keep our heads down from now on! It says here that the Ministry has passed new legislation that gives them, and _her_ , almost complete control over Hogwarts — if she got away with using a blood quill _before_ , then I do _not_ want to find out what she’s allowed to do to anyone who messes with her, on that level, _now_ — we are not doing it! And before you say anything else, it’s not just our own expulsion we’d be risking, because listen to this… _’The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure they are coming up to scratch’_ … what do you think she would do to the Head of House of the group of students that vandalised her office?”

 

”She wouldn’t sack Professor Snape over a prank…” Seamus says, but he glances around at the others uncertainly. 

 

”Do you want to risk it?” Draco counters. ”He’s the only professor who isn’t biased towards us slytherins, and who stands up to the other teachers for us, do you really want to lose him as Head of House—?”

 

”Of course we don’t”, Blaise says. ”Don’t be so dramatic. Seamus is right (must be a blue moon), no seriously, even if we _were_ to get caught, there’s no way the Ministry could justify firing a professor who’s worked at Hogwarts for over a decade, providing excellent results for the most part, just because a handful of the students in his house were caught performing an essentially harmless prank.”

 

”We are _not_ doing it”, Draco bites out stubbornly. 

 

Blaise simply rolls his eyes, but doesn’t press his point and no-one else bothers fighting the blonde on it either, however Seamus looks torn between disappointment and pride whenever he glances sideways at Blaise, obviously surprised and thrilled that the other boy had sided with him. 

 

Harry had consciously not taken a side, because as much as he’d loved the idea of getting back at Umbridge for those awful evenings and for the words now permanently scratched into the back of his hand, he does see Draco’s point… and if he were to be involved in an elaborate prank on the _High Inquisitor,_ and get caught, then he’d be breaking not only his promise to his dads and Professor Snape to stay out of trouble, but his promise to Draco too… _it wouldn’t be worth it,_ he tells himself firmly. 

 

 _Although, if they_ don’t _get caught_ —

 

”Bastard”, Draco hisses suddenly next to him and Harry flinches, believing for a second that the blonde had somehow managed to read his mind, but when he looks over he’s relieved to see the other boy’s eyes are fixed on the paper again. 

 

”What?” he says. ”More bad news?”

 

Draco gives his head a small shake, without tearing his eyes away from the article on the front page, his face twisting into a rather ugly scowl. 

 

”What then?” Harry mutters. ”They’re putting Filch in charge of punishments? He’ll get his thumb screws back finally?”

 

”No”, Draco says shortly, his lips never even twitching. ”It’s just… my father…”

 

” _What?_ ” Harry exclaims, mind whirring to a stop suddenly. 

 

”Here…” Draco mutters and shoves the paper away from him as if it was something dirty and smelly. 

 

Harry skims the article until the words _Lucius Malfoy_ jumps out at him and reads the following paragraph more carefully. 

 

 _”… ’I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation’, said Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire Mansion last night. ’Many of us with our children’s best interest at heart’”,_ Harry snorts derisively. _”’Have been concerned about some of Dumbledore’s eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.’… among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin…”_

 

Harry stops reading abruptly and shoves the paper away as well. It’s immediately snatched up Pansy, who bends over it eagerly, Daphne and Blaise both craning their necks to read the article over her shoulders. 

 

”Why does he always have to…” Draco trails off with a frustrated sigh, but a sheen of hurt is clearly visible in his eyes and Harry’s chest twinges at the sight. 

 

”Did you ever tell them?” Harry asks carefully.

 

”What?” Draco frowns. 

 

”About my detentions”, Harry clarifies. ”Because if you didn’t, then he’s no way of knowing — not that I’m sticking up for him or anything, I’m just saying—!”

 

”It wouldn’t have made a difference, he doesn’t _care_!” Draco snarls. ”He only cares about himself and his — his — _standing!_ ”

 

”Okay…” Harry says softly. 

 

”Come on”, Pansy says, just as softly. ”We’d better get going if we’re going to make it to Divination on time, we don’t want to be late in case she’s inspecting Trewlawny…”

 

It’s with a mixture of curiosity and dread that Harry trudges up the stairs to the North Tower with the others, wondering what Umbridge’s inspection of Trelawny might be like if she was indeed going to sit in on Divination, because obviously the subject is a joke and Trelawny herself even more so, the random predictions that she likes to throw at the students always missing the mark and all of them taking the mick out of her without her even realising it… but in a weird way, Harry has almost learned to, not quite _enjoy_ Divination, but it’s an easy enough class really, when you think about it, and he’d hate to lose the ’O’, as well as the opportunity for midday naps, just because Umbridge doesn’t think Trelawny is up to par…

 

But when they enter the classroom, Toad Face is nowhere to be seen, and the lesson trickles by in much the same way as Divination usually does, Trelawny warning Daphne about her already-dead grandfather’s declining health and then predicting Harry’s demise as a final (and predictable) party trick, before the bell rings and they shuffle out of the classroom again. 

 

With their next lesson being Double Potions with the Gryffindors, literally as far away from the North Tower as possible unless you count the greenhouses or Hagrid’s hut, they don’t get even a minute’s break between lessons, but have to head straight to the dungeons and even so they have to walk quite briskly the whole way to make it on time. 

 

”Settle down”, Snape says smoothly as soon as everyone is seated. 

 

He slides the door shut with a definitive _click_ and then sweeps up the middle aisle of the classroom towards the teacher’s desk at the front, sending the moonstone essays to their rightful owners with a lazy flick of his wand as he goes. Harry eagerly pulls his closer and unrolls it. His heart lurching pleasantly as he spots the large, spiky ’E’ scrawled in the top right corner of the parchment. 

 

”I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.Ls… this should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination”, Professor Snape says and swirls around the face them from behind his desk. 

 

Harry’s heart pounds pridely in his chest and he glances at Draco quickly, sharing s small smile with him before focusing on the Potions Master once more. The man’s black eyes lock with his for a split second before darting away to glare over at the Gryffindors on the other side of the classroom instead, but Harry swears he saw flicker of a smirk on the man’s face. 

 

”Some of you handed in acceptable essays and were graded accordingly, but the general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a ’D’ in the future…”

 

Next to Harry, Draco lets out a small scoff and whispers incredulously, ”Some people got a ’D’? _Ha!_ ”

 

Another smirk flickers onto Professor Snape’s face, but he studiously ignores looking over at the Slytherin side of the classroom. Instead, he pins Longbottom with a stern look and the chubby Gryffindor gulps.

 

”Today, you will be making a basic Antidote to most common poisons”, Professor Snape continues. ”The ingredients and instructions are on the board. Begin.”

 

”What did you get?” Harry asks Draco in an undertone as the classroom fills with idle chatter. ”You got an ’O’, didn’t you?”

 

The blonde simply smirks back, but there’s no mistaking the relief and pride that make his eyes glitter and Harry grins back, clapping him on the shoulder and allowing his hand to linger for just a second too long. 

 

”What about you?” Draco mumbles, his cheeks pink with either embarassment or pleasure and he ducks his head slightly to hide it. 

 

”I got an ’E’”, Harry says, smiling. 

 

”Me too”, Blaise pipes up on the other side if Draco. ”I don’t get why though… My essay was bloody brilliant. I even added _two extra inches_ on the reaction to hellebore—”

 

”Yeah”, Draco says, giving the other boy a surprised look. ”That part _was_ brilliant—you should have got an ’O’—!”

 

”Well, it might be because it was too long”, Harry says with a shrug. ”Professor Snape is probably just making a point—guys, think about it… he gives you an ’O’ for a fourteen inch essay, when he’d clearly said he wanted _twelve inches_ , and before you know it, Granger is handing in five feet homework assignments!”

 

Draco snorts and nods his head in agreement. 

 

”Still…” Blaise says, sending a half-hearted glare at Professor Snape’s back as the man sweeps down the length of the classroom. ”See if I ever put in any extra effort ever again…”

 

”At least you got an ’E’ though”, Seamus mutters. ”I only an ’A’…”

 

Blaise gives the Irish boy a calculating look, then promptly tells him to go to the store cupboard and fetch their ingredients and leave the brewing to him. The other boy gives him a sour look, but pushes to his feet without further protest and stalks over to the open store cupboard. 

 

Harry follows him to get the ingredients for his and Draco’s potion, smirking slightly as he overhear his Irish friend mutter to himself about _uppity wankers_ and their _pouty lips,_ before grabbing the bezoars right out of Lavender Brown’s hands. 

 

”Hey!” The brunette girl says indignantly, but Seamus ignores her. 

 

He does shoot Harry a glare when he snickers though, as does the Gryffindor girl, so Harry quickly grabs his last two ingredients and ducks out of the store cupboard again before they both bite his head off. 

 

The rest of the Potions lesson passes by without incident, which is quite remarkable for a class with Longbottom as well as Crabbe and Goyle in it. 

 

Even Professor Snape seems taken aback, going so far as to inspect Longbottom’s antidote an extra two times when he’d found nothing wrong with it the first time around, as if thinking it impossible that the boy had actually managed to follow intructions for once in his life — only to then decide that there is no possible way that he could have, and so promptly takes five points from Gryffindor with a pointed glare in Granger’s direction. The girl’s hair seems to get even frizzier as she draws herself up indignantly, but she doesn’t protest. Professor Snape seems to take this as confirmation of his suspicion that she’d secretly helped Longbottom and Thomas brew their potion and scowls deeply as he barks at them all, ”Class dismissed!”

 

They don’t see Umbridge all day, but they hear rumours about her inspecting Trelawny when she was teaching the Fifth Year Gryffindors and that it hadn’t gone very well — for Trelawny. Harry can’t really bring himself to care, however. Sure, Divination is an easy enough subject and he’s happy for the ’O’ he’s guaranteed to get in his O.W.L.s for the trouble of having his untimely death predicted on a regular basis, but as much as Harry knows that Divination is all hokum, and he actually couldn’t care less if the lines in his palm or the tea leaves left in his cup spell out some terrible fate, he has noticed that it seems to bother Draco… in fact, it seems to bother the blonde more and more with each passing lesson, and for that reason Harry wishes Trelawny would give it a rest already — and if an inspection by Toad Face is what it takes for that to happen, then so be it!

 

He is however glad that he didn’t have to be around to see it. In fact, any amount of time spent away from Toad Face is time well spent… Harry is sure his nightmares will be infiltrated by bulging brown eyes and flabby cheeks any night now, but until then, he’ll try his best to forget about the woman’s existence… 

 

Which is fine five days of the week, but the remaining two they have Defence on the schedule and Harry has no choice but to face her… _it’s not fair,_ he thinks. _DADA used to be my favourite subject!_

 

But ever since Toad Face started teaching it, Harry would do _anything_ to drop the subject entirely.

 

Even if Toad Face had managed to rattle Trelawny, she shows no sign of being pleased with herself when the Slytherins file inside the Defence classroom the next day. Even though she smiles widely at them from behind her desk, it clearly doesn’t reach her muddy brown eyes. 

 

A few students have hopefully (or rather _naïvely_ ) left their wands out, but she immediately tells them all to put them away. 

 

”Turn to page nineteen and proceed to read _Chapter Two: Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation_ , please… there will be no need to talk…”

 

Harry swallows a sigh and slams his copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ down on the desk and flicks the pages to chapter two. At this rate, DADA is getting awfully close to being as dull as History of Magic —

 

”Yes, Mister Potter?”

 

Harry looks up in surprise. Umbridge is watching him with narrowed eyes, her plump cheeks lax around her frown. 

 

”Nothing”, Harry says. ”I didn’t say anything. Ma’am.”

 

”I suppose you too have an _opinion_ on Wilbert Slinkhard’s view on counter-jinxes?” she says, rather shrilly.

 

”What?” Harry says, frowning. 

 

”You know, I seriously despair”, Umbridge says loudly, sweeping her rather manic eyes across the stunned class. ”Of the level of incompetence and recklessness that you… _poor children_ … have been subjected to so far in this class! With the exception of Professor Quirrell, who at least seems to have kept to an age-appropriate curriculum, the teachers that you have had so far have been nothing short of dangerous—!”

 

”Yeah…” Harry whispers in an undetone to Draco and Blaise. ”Quirrell was great, except for the little matter of having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head—”

 

”MISTER POTTER!” Umbridge shouts shrilly. 

 

” _What?_ ” Harry says loudly.

 

”I’m sorry to interrupt your little social gathering! Whatever you just said to Mister Malfoy and Mister Zabini must have been _awfully important…_ in fact, it seems to have been something _so_ important, that it couldn’t wait until after the lesson, so why don’t you stand up and tell _the whole class_ what’s on your mind, Mister Potter?”

 

Harry simply glares back.

 

”No?” Umbridge says and blinks innocently at him. 

 

”No”, Harry bites out. 

 

”Oh dear… we really are regressing, aren’t we… Let’s try that _again!_ ”

 

”I didn’t say anything!” Harry all but shouts in exasperation. ” _Ma’am._ ”

 

As if suddenly pulled by an invisible rope, Umbridge lurches forward and takes several tottering steps towards Harry’s desk and he cringes back warily as she pins him with a furious look, eyes popping out to such an extent he almost expects them to come flying out of their sockets, like Moody’s magical eye did when Barty Crouch Junior began to transform back and his real eye pushed the magical one out of his skull… Harry flashes back to that moment and remembers the sound the glass eye made as it clattered to the floor and rolled over to him, swivelling uselessly at his feet —

 

”Mister Potter”, Umbridge all but hisses in his face and Harry blinks the memory away again, meeting the woman’s eye dead on. ”You are treading on very thin ice. _Don’t_ make matters worse for yourself and your house…”

 

”I didn’t say anything”, Harry grumbles again — _will she just let it go?_

 

”I think we all know that is another one of your… _filthy_ … little lies, Mister Potter. Now, I am going to give you one more chance to tell the truth. What… were… you… saying—?”

 

”I _said_ Quirrell was _great_ ”, Harry bites out. 

 

A small smile flickers onto the woman’s face, her pudgy cheeks quivering slightly on either side of it. 

 

”Oh, _silly me…_ here I thought we’d made some _progress_ , Mister Potter, but apparently you’re still nothing but a naughty, evil little liar… let’s see if another week’s worth of detentions will do the trick!”

 

And that’s when it dawns on Harry that he’s walked straight into the evil hag’s trap.

 

”But Professor—!” Draco blurts out, but immediately cuts himself off again when Harry knocks their knees together under the desk.

 

”Now turn to page nineteen and read Chapter two”, Umbridge says with a cutting glare in Draco’s direction. ”There will be _no need to talk._ ”

 

 

*

 

”Harry”, an all too familiar deep voice barks behind him and Harry all but jumps. ”A word with you, please!”

 

His friends all give him looks of sympathy and he grimaces slightly and mutters to them to go ahead. He can hear the Potions Master’s quick footsteps behind him and turns around slowly to face his fate… that’s overly dramatic, he tells himself. But when he looks up into Professor Snape’s glittering black eyes, his stomach drops. 

 

 _No_ , he thinks miserably. _I think it might actually have been an understatment… I’m so dead…_  

 

The Potions Master pulls to a sudden halt a meter in front of him and opens his mouth to speak, but something stops him suddenly and his eyes narrow into suspiscious slits. Harry knows that look. _But then…_

 

”What have you done now?” Professor Snape demands. 

 

 _He doesn’t know,_ Harry thinks. _So he’s not here to give me Hell after all… But then what —_

 

”Harry!”

 

”S-Sorry, Sir… I… I…”

 

”Out with it”, Snape hisses impatiently. 

 

Harry sighs and hangs his head. 

 

”I got another week of detentions from Umbridge”, he mumbles.

 

” _What!_ ”

 

”Sir, _I swear,_ I didn’t do _anything!_ ” Harry exclaims and watches in mild fascination as the Potions Master draws himself up to his full height and promptly pinches the bridge of his nose. ”I-I’m sorry, Sir…”

 

”Harry…”

 

”I didn’t do anything”, Harry mumbles again, well aware of sounding like a petulant First Year. 

 

Another rare sigh escapes the older man and with a weary _come on_ , he leads Harry to his office. He wordlessly points Harry to the chair in front of the desk, before sweeping around it to stand next to his own chair. Harry gingerly perches on the edge of the seat and continues to hang his head. 

 

Even though he genuinely doesn’t think he did anything to deserve the detentions, just being in this office and sitting in this chair, with his Head of House literally towering over him, Harry can’t help but feel the weight of guilt from all the other times he’s been in here, in trouble… 

 

”How are you sleeping?” 

 

Harry jerks his head up and looks at Professor Snape in surprise. 

 

”Well?” the Potions Master prompts. 

 

”Fine, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. ”Much better. I only had one nightmare last week.”

 

Professor Snape nods curtly, his face revealing nothing, but there’s a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes that tells Harry this is surprisingly good news. 

 

”I am going to lower your dose to once a week”, he says and finally sits down in his desk chair. ”And I would like to try stopping the course completely over the Christmas holidays… obviously, if the nightmares get worse again, we will resume treatment once school starts again. But in such case we might need to look into alternatives, as Dreamless Sleep is not intended for permanent use.”

 

Harry nods in understanding. He remembers both his daddy and Professor Snape explaining this to him at the beginning of the school year. At the time, the idea of not being allowed to keep taking the Dreamless Sleep potion was a nightmare in itself, but now… Harry is almost certain he could stop taking it completely right now, and he’d be fine. 

 

It’s true he’s only had one nightmare in the past week, but even that was alright compared to the night terrors of last summer. Playing Quidditch in thunder storms and staring at mysterious doors he can handle. Just as long as he never has to revisit that graveyard again, he’s absolutely fine. 

 

”Good”, Professor Snape says, then fixes Harry with an intense look. ”Harry, you can’t keep doing this… I don’t care what you have to do, but if you don’t get this situation with Umbridge under control, I _will_ have to write home to your dads.”

 

”I understand. I promise I’ll… try harder…”

 

”Good”, Snape says again and swiftly stands up again. 

 

”Bad”, Draco says later in the Common Room. ”Very bad, Harry!”

 

”I’m not a — a — _pet!_ ” Harry splutters indignantly and their friends snicker around them, but Draco merely narrows his eyes. ”Oh, come on! You were there — you were all there — _you know_ I didn’t do anything!”

 

”Oh, no, you didn’t do anything”, Draco says sarcastically. ”Apart from landing yourself in detention _for_ _another week!_ ”

 

”I didn’t do anything to warrant those detentions, and you know it”, Harry grits out. ”That bitch has it in for me!”

 

”Harry’s right, Draco”, Pansy says quietly. 

 

”You stay out of this!”

 

”Ex- _cuse_ me?” the girl says, each syllable dripping with venom and the blonde immediately recoils. 

 

”S-Sorry, Pans, I didn’t mean to snap at you…” he mumbles. 

 

”Thank you”, the girl says in a clipped tone before flicking her hair quite dramatically over her shoulder and turning towards Daphne and Blaise, clearly determined to ignore Draco for the forseeable future. 

 

”What about me?” Harry mutters, not really expecting an apology from his boyfriend but feeling like he should at least demand one, and as expected, Draco simply glowers back. ”Well, I should get over there”, Harry adds with a sigh. ”If I’m late, she’ll just make me stay even longer…”

 

The heat in Draco’s eyes simmers down considerably at that, but he still doesn’t apologise. Harry wouldn’t really expect him to, though. He’s quite surprised he apologised so readily to Pansy, actually. 

 

 _But then again,_ he thinks wryly as he glances over at the girls and Blaise, before pushing to his feet and leaving the Common Room. _That girl is scary._

 

 

*

 

 

Harry knows exactly what to expect from a detention with Toad Face by now, has every part memorised, from the exchange of cold greetings at the start, through the punishment itself, which is a confusing mix of pain and tedium, to the most dreaded moment when the woman walks over to him and grabs a hold of his bleeding hand with her own meaty paws to check the damage… but even so, even though he knows exactly what to expect and manages to get through the full three hours with his emotions in check, jaw clenched and hand moving swiftly and determinedly across the parchment, when he’s finally allowed to leave the injustice of it all, combined with the searing pain in his hand, makes his eyes well up and by the time he reaches the dungeons he has to take a moment to collect himself before entering the Common Room. 

 

Of course Draco sees right through him anyway, judging by the grim look on his face. And his friends as well, but at least he’s not a complete snivelling mess for all of his other housemates and Quidditch team mates to see, which is something… 

 

”I’m going to bed”, Harry mumbles and attempts a crooked smile that is so wry it’s actually more of a grimace, but when the others mirror it they do so rather sympathetically, so Harry can pretend it was a successful attempt after all. 

 

”I’ll come with you”, Draco says. 

 

Harry says nothing, but dutifully waits for him to gather up all of his books and homework essays, even though his hand is throbbing with almost unbearable pain now and he really just wants to get away from everyone’s worried eyes before he breaks down again. 

 

Draco finally manages to collect all of his homework and stands up. 

 

”Pans…” he mumbles, nodding to a small glass jar left on the table that Harry immediately recognises as the salve Professor Snape usually gives him for his cut. 

 

Pansy grabs the jar and puts it on top of Draco’s toppling pile of books. 

 

”Thanks”, he says, craning his neck to recieve her goodnight cheek kiss. ”See you in the morning.”

 

”Sleep tight”, she murmurs, and gives Harry another pinched smile. ”G’night, Harry…”

 

”Yeah, g’night”, Seamus says. ”See you later.”

 

”Good night”, Blaise and Daphne echo softly. 

 

Harry gives them all a small nod and another tense smile, then gives Draco a quick look, pleading with him to hurry up already and the blonde seems to get it because he springs to life so suddenly the pile of books almost topples out of his arms, the glass jar sliding precariously close to the edge of top one. 

 

In the dorm, after he’s disposed of the books and homework on top of his trunk to be sorted later, he helps Harry out of his uniform and then gentle rubs some salve into the still bleeding cut. As soon as the salve starts to work its magic and soothe the stinging wound enough that Harry can focus on something other than the pain, he notices for the first time just how tense his boyfriend is. His face is drawn and his whole body is tight with tension, as he works silently and efficiently. 

 

”Thanks” Harry murmurs thickly. ”You don’t have to, this one works just fine…”

 

He holds up his other hand and smiles thinly. Draco’s eyes flicker up to meet his for half a second, before focusing on his hand again, his lips never even twitching. Harry sighs. 

 

”I’m sorry, Draco…”

 

”You didn’t do anything”, the blonde replies immediately. 

 

 _I know,_ Harry thinks. _I really didn’t… But why do I feel awful then?_

 

”Professor Snape dropped by earlier”, Draco mumbles. ”With the murtlap.”

 

”The what?”

 

”The murtlap”, Draco repeats, meeting his eyes again. ”The salve?”

 

”Oh… I didn’t know what it was called…”

 

”It’s a salve made from murtlap essence and aloe vera.”

 

”Oh”, Harry says again, not knowing what else _to_ say. 

 

”There… all done…”

 

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles again. 

 

”You’re welcome.”

 

They turn away from each other in unison, getting ready for bed in silence. Draco helps Harry into his pyjama top, but then turns away again to change into his own pyjamas and by the time they crawl into their respective beds, Harry feels like crying again. 

 

”Draco…?” He whispers. 

 

”Yeah?”

 

”Are we okay?”

 

”Of course we are”, Draco says, forgetting to whisper. ”What do you mean?”

 

”Nothing…”

 

”I’m not upset with _you_ …”

 

”Okay”, Harry mumbles, feeling a little better but not much. 

 

He curls up with a soft sigh, carefully putting his hand on top of the covers so the fabric won’t irritate the cut during the night and is just beginning to drift off when the blonde speaks again. 

 

”This can’t go on.”

 

”Wh-what?” Harry mumbles. ”What’s that?”

 

”Nothing. Sorry, go back to sleep—”

 

”No, what did you—?”

 

”No really. We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, Harry.”

 

The blonde is still in a weird mood the next morning, avoiding Harry’s and everyone else’s eyes and Harry can tell his muscles are all tight with tension and a subtle frown is pulling together his brow, as if he were in pain but trying not to show it. Harry asks him softly if he’s okay, but only gets a short nod in response. 

 

Draco stays unusually quiet all throughout breakfast, opening his copy of the _Prophet_ under the guise of reading so no-one will disturb him, but Harry can tell his eyes are firmly fixed on the photograph on the front page, never moving over the surrounding text at all. 

 

Harry is starting to get really worried, but when they filter into classroom 1B for Double Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, he forgets all about it because on a small stool in the far corner of the classroom sits Toad Face with a smug smirk on her face and a clipboard in her lap. 

 

As soon as Harry and his friends have claimed their usual back row and settled into their seats, Professor McGonagall comes marching into the classroom in her normal fashion, much like a very strong and determined windstorm sweeping across the land, or in this case, classroom, and if she notices Umbridge sitting in the corner, before promptly turning her back to her, she gives no indication of it. Instead she starts barking out instructions to the Gryffindors sitting nearest the front, like it’s a lesson like any other. 

 

”Mister Thomas, kindly hand back the homework. Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you — and hand one to each student —”

 

” _Hem, hem_ …”

 

The surge of rage that immediately flares up inside Harry at the by now familiar and loathed little cough, quickly goes out again when Professor McGonagall ignores it.

 

”Right then, everyone listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention — most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell, I think. So today, we shall be —”

 

” _Hem, hem_ ”, Umbridge lets out another cough. 

 

”Yes?” McGonagall hisses impatiently and whirls around to face the other witch for the first time. 

 

”I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—?”

 

”Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom”, McGonagall says swiftly, then turns her back on Umbridge again, much to the students’ delight. ”As I was saying… today we shall be practising the much more difficult Vanishment of mice. As you’ll remember from the introduction to the Vanishing Spell, the more complex the creature, the harder—”

 

” _Hem, hem._ ”

 

”I wonder”, McGonagall says in a louder, but still deceptively calm voice, shooting a furious glare at the ceiling. ”How you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I don’t _usually_ allow people to talk when I am talking!”

 

Smirk widening to a gleeful smile, Harry looks over at Umbridge. She clutches the clipboard rather desperately in front of her, blinking stupidly at McGonagall’s back as if she can’t quite believe what just happened. The shock only lasts for a second, though. Almost immediately, a furious frown contorts the witch’s face and she begins to scribble frantically on her clipboard. 

 

Harry glances over at McGonagall again, wondering if she’s at all concerned about the results of her inspection. But Professor McGonagall couldn’t look less concerned if she tried and the sight of her stern face as she continues to explain the challenges of Vanishing a mammal compared to an invertebrate, as if everything was normal, makes Harry feel a fondness for her that he hasn’t felt since she stepped in and helped Draco when Moody the imposter had transfigured him into a ferret. 

 

At the end of the lesson, as Lavender Brown is walking around collecting bits of mice from everyone, Umbridge hops down from her stool and approaches the teacher’s desk. She asks McGonagall how long she’s been teaching and receives such a curt answer — _”Thirty-nine years this December!”_ — that she doesn’t seem to want to ask anything else while the students are still there. But Professor McGonagall is clearly not sticking around, but gathering her things quickly and then snapping her bag shut with such finality, Umbridge really has no choice but to fold and instead she stammers out something about the results of the inspection being delivered within ten days. 

 

”I can hardly wait”, McGonagall says coolly, sweeping away from the other woman. ”Come on, you lot, hurry up, please!”

 

Harry can’t help but to laugh when she shepherds him and the rest of the students out of the classroom and then slams the door shut, with Umbridge still in there. 

 

”That was brilliant”, Seamus chortles as they head down the corridor and the others readily agree with him. 

 

They continue to chat excitedly about it as they trundle outside and Harry is happy to see Draco looking more like himself again, smirking in amusement as Seamus skips alongside him and regales them all with his theories about what McGonagall would have done if Umbridge had coughed a third time. They’re just cutting across the courtyard, when the angry coice of Marcus Flint suddenly echoes around them and stops them in their tracks. 

 

”POTTER!”

 

Harry feels his amusement quickly abate as he turns around to see his Team Captain come marching towards him, closely followed by a frowning Adrian Pucey. Flint looks positively murderous, his sunken cheeks flushed pink and his eyes flashing dangerously. 

 

”Yeah?” Harry mumbles uncertainly. 

 

”You missed practise last night!”

 

”I know, I’m sor—”

 

”And you’ve got another detention again tonight? And every other night this week?”

 

”Well, I —”

 

”That’s _four_ practises you’ll be missing! Need I remind you that we have a very important game coming up? And just how are we meant to practise without a Seeker? _Eh?_ ”

 

”It wasn’t his fault”, Draco says, earning an incredulous glare from the Team Captain. ”And we can practise fine without a Seek—”

 

”Oh really? And I suppose we can play Gryffindor _fine without a Seeker_ as well? Didn’t I tell you at the start of term that I wanted to put in extra practise time this year and really bond as a team? Didn’t I tell you that I expected everyone to put Quidditch first, or they’d be off the team? Is that what you want? You’re both good fliers, but I will kick you off the team in a heartbeat if you don’t start taking the Quidditch Cup seriously and don’t think I won’t!”

 

”All right, Marcus, that’s enough, they’ve got the point…” Adrian mutters and next to him and Flint immediately wheels around to pin him with a furious glare. 

 

”That goes for you too!”

 

” _Excuse me?_ ”

 

”You heard me!”

 

Harry sighs as the two older boys begin to fight and gives the others a significant look, jerking his head towards the south side of the courtyard to say they should slip away while Flint is distracted and the others are eager to comply. 

 

They all hurry across the courtyard and down the grassy slope towards Hagrid’s hut and paddock, where Professor Grubbly-Plank is waiting for them next to the trestle table where their Bowtruckles are gathered, munching on woodlice. 

 

They’re halfway through the lesson when Umbridge and her clipboard come tottering down the slope towards them and Harry feels what little remnants of good spirits he’d had left after Flint had a go at him abruptly go out at the sight of her. 

 

She starts circulating amongst the students, quizzing them on magical creatures and asking them about the class, and about Hagrid, before she sidles up to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

 

”You don’t normally take this class, is that correct?”

 

”Quite so”, Professor Grubbly-Plank says with a decisive nod. ”I’m a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid.”

 

Harry can see Umbridge’s eyes glint with interest as she leans in a little closer to the other woman and lowers her voice slightly, ”I wonder — the Headmaster has been very vague on the matter — could you tell me what’s causing Hagrid’s extended leave of absence?”

 

Most of the students have completely abandoned their Bowtruckles by now and are eagerly listeing in on the conversation, curious about the half-giant’s mysterious absence themselves. 

 

”I’m afraid not”, Grubbly-Plank says breezily. ”Just got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a few weeks’ teaching work. I accepted, and here I am.”

 

”And what do you plan to cover with this class this year — assuming Hagrid doesn’t return?”

 

”Oh, I’ll take them through the creatures that would most likely show up in their OWLs — not much left to do actually, since they’ve already studied unicorns and nifflers — I thought we’d cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognise crups and knarls, you know…”

 

”Well”, Umbridge says with a wide grin, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. ” _You_ know what you’re doing, I have to say!” She turns back around and directs her next question at Goyle. ”Now, I hear there have been some injuries in this class?”

 

”Yeah”, Goyle grunts, his beady eyes flitting over to Draco and Umbridge immediately turns to him instead. 

 

”Mister Malfoy?”

 

”Yeah, I got slashed by a hippogriff”, he says. 

 

”A _hippogriff?_ ” Umbridge repeats, her eyebrows climbing up into her curling fringe and she begins to scribble furiously on her clipboard. 

 

Draco shifts his weight a little, his eyes darting from Umbridge’s clipboard to a point just above Harry’s shoulder and Harry can guess why he’s feeling uncomfortable. He obviously doesn’t want to help or do anything that might please Umbridge, Harry thinks. But on the other side… if there can be at least one silver-lining to the massive cloud that is the High Inquisitor’s control over Hogwarts, then getting Hagrid sacked from his post as Professor and back to being just a Gamekeeper, unable to force any more dangerous (or boring) creatures on them, then that might just be worth it. 

 

 _Or not,_ Harry thinks as he watches his boyfriend sink back into his shell and avoid everyone’s eyes for the rest of the lesson, clearly conflicted. Harry gently lets his shoulder brush up against his, just to show he’s there and that the blonde has his support. Draco’s eyes flit up to meet his, but quickly flicker away again and he remains silent. 

 

In fact, Harry doesn’t hear Draco’s voice again for the rest of the day. Not until they’re making their from Charms, the last lesson of the day, all of them dragging their feet slightly despite the prospect of dinner due to the exhaustion of a long day at the end of a long week, Pansy and Daphne half-heartedly weighing the pros and cons of skipping dinner in favour of getting the homework out of the way so that they can go to bed early, when Draco suddenly throws his head back haughtily and more or less exclaims, ”Well, that’s _my_ appetite gone, thanks _a lot,_ Seamus —!”

 

”What—?” the Irish boy says, startled. 

 

 _What,_ Harry’s thoughts echo. 

 

”Like I needed the mental picture of Weasel doing _that_ to the mudblood! _Ack_ , there goes me gag reflex—!”

 

Harry blinks stupidly at the blonde, while his brain whirrs to a sudden stop, before sluggishly trying to backtrack for any clues he might have missed that would explain where _that_ had just come from. But before he’s managed to comprehend much of anything, a sudden force knocks into his shoulder and he stumbles sideways.

 

” _You_ —!”

 

”No, Ron, _don’t—_!” 

 

Harry wheels around to see Granger standing just behind them, wringing her hands anxiously as she continues shouting at Ron _leave it._ Harry wheels back around again just as quickly and his heart stutters at the sight of Ron pulling his fist back and landing a solid punch on Draco’s cheek and effectively cutting off the blonde as he sneers, ”Does she taste of _mud_ down th—?”

 

”Ron, no! He’s not worth it!” Granger exclaims, too late. 

 

Harry’s stomach jolts as Ron’s fist bouncing off Draco’s cheek bone with a sickening _thump_ and Draco’s head snaps to the side. He slowly turns it back and touches his bruised cheek with trembling fingers, while glaring furiously at the redhead. 

 

Then with a snarl he charges him and slams into his chest with all of his strength. Ron topples over backwards and soon, the two boys are rolling around on the floor, clawing, grappling and punching each other’s bodies blindly. 

 

” _Filthy mudblood-lover!_ ”

 

” _Fuck ugly ferret!_ ”

 

”GET OFF ME, _TRAMP_ —!”

 

Harry is just about to jump in and separate the two, when they sudden spring apart as if pulled by invisible ropes. Harry blinks, staring from the two panting boys to his friends. They all look just as dumfounded as he feels. 

 

” _Hem, hem_ …”

 

The whole group wheels around and stares at the small pink-clad witch who stands a few metres away from them in the hallway, smiling smugly. 

 

”Oh dear…” she simpers, curling her fingers around the tip of her wand and looks between Draco and Ron. ”Fighting… in the hall… tut, tut… who wants to explain themselves?”

 

”Malfoy started it”, Ron says immediately, shooting the blonde a vicious glare. 

 

Draco merely glares back, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

”Mister Malfoy, is this true?”

 

Draco’s glare flits from Ron’s red face over to Umbridge, but he still refuses to speak. 

 

”Mister Malfoy?” Umbridge prompts. 

 

”He didn’t”, Harry blurts. ”He didn’t start it. Ron threw the first punch—”

 

”Mister Potter, I believe I asked Mister Malfoy and not you!” Umbridge snaps, but her narrowed eyes finds the red mark on Draco’s cheek bone and she seems to come to some sort of realisation. 

 

”Professor”, Granger says hurriedly, her eyes flickering between Draco’s bruised cheek and Umbridge’s face. ”Malfoy _did_ start it, he was picking a fight—!”

 

”Shut up, _Mudblood_ ”, Draco says in a loud, carrying voice that seems like it should leave behind an echo even if it doesn’t and everyone falls into a stunned silence. 

 

”Draco”, Harry hisses, staring incredulously at his boyfriend. 

 

The blonde ignores him and keeps staring at Umbridge, his eyes glinting with some barely repressed emotion and chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths. 

 

”Ten points from Slytherin”, Umbridge says decisively then. ”Now, all of you, get to dinner—!”

 

She begins to turn away from them, but freezes when Draco’s whispered _bloody bitch_ reaches her and then slowly turns back around again. Everyone but Draco and Umbridge seem to be holding their breaths, looking anxiously between the two of them as they stare each other down coldly.

 

”Excuse me?” she whispers. 

 

”I didn’t say anything”, Draco says immediately, but his eyes keep glittering madly at her. 

 

”Mister Malfoy… I think it might do you some good if you… joined Mister Potter in detention this evening…”

 

”No!” Harry blurts out. 

 

”Be quiet, Mister Potter!” Umbridge barks out, without tearing her eyes away from Draco. ”Both of you, in my office, tonight at seven! Now get to dinner!”

 

”What the _Hell_ is wrong with you?” Harry hisses at the blonde as soon as the woman is out of earshot. 

 

The Gryffindors give them weird looks and begin to back away, before hurrying down the hallway. Draco swallows thickly and finally meets Harry eyes and even though Harry can see all sorts of fear and worry in the grey orbs, the rest of the blonde’s face is set in resolve. 

 

 _What the Hell is going on with him?_ Harry thinks desperately, shaking his head in confusion. 

 

”Draco”, Harry prompts sternly. 

 

”Let’s just go eat”, the blonde says quietly and begins to walk down the corridor again. 

 

Harry turns to the others, but they look just as stricken and confused as him and Pansy just shakes her head wordlessly when he gives her a questioning look. 

 

All throughout dinner Draco is back to his earlier, silent self again, like the scene in the Charms corridor never happened at all, and when the two of them make their way to Umbridge’s office just before seven, Harry shoots him a couple of sidelong looks but Draco keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him, his mouth set in a thin line.

 

”Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Harry asks finally, as they stop in front of the Defence Office’s door. 

 

”After”, Draco says curtly and knocks on the door. 

 

” _Enter_ ”, Umbridge’s simpering voice filters through the oak.

 

Draco immediatly pushes the door open and steps inside, without glancing in Harry’s direction even once. Harry swallows a sigh and follows him. 

 

It’s by far the worst detention yet, and it’s got nothing to do with the cut on the back of Harry’s hand. It starts bleeding freely after only three lines and by the time he’s halfway down the page, his whole hand is throbbing with pain. But Harry barely even notices. The only thing he can think of is Draco sitting next to him. 

 

The blonde’s body is pulled tight like a string, bursting to break beneath the pressure of a bow, his eyes staring determinedly at the parchment in front of him but glittering with unshed tears. Every time Harry looks over and sees them, and the small frown of pain on his brow, and the way his free hand curls tighter and tighter, he feels a stab under his breast bone. 

 

Usually Harry can zone out during his detentions and just speed through his lines, but now he’s achingly aware of every passing second, every word that the other boy scratches out on his parchment… Harry glances over at the crimson words carved into the back of his hand again, a stark contrast to the bone white skin and already dripping blood down the side of his trembling fist… _I must not tell lies…_ in Draco’s swirly handwriting, not Harry’s hippogriff scrawl. 

 

When the first couple of tears tumble over the edge of Draco’s lashes, Harry forces himself to look away. For a second, he allows himself to glare at Umbridge, and he allows himself to fill up with pure hatred for the woman as she smirks back at him. Even as he tears his eyes away again and fixes them on his parchment, he keeps the hatred alive inside, like a fire keeping him warm from within… he feels his heart beating in the wound on his hand and with every beat, every throb of pain, he thinks _bitch-bitch-bitch-bitch…_

 

Finally, at the stroke of ten, Umbridge lets them leave. They trudge through the castle in tense silence. Not until they reach the end of the spiral staircase leading to the dungeons does Draco open his mouth to mutter grimly, ”Now let’s see if father cares about her methods of discipline…”

 

Harry stares at him. 

 

_Oh._

 

_Oh, Draco…_

 

As if hearing Harry’s thoughts, Draco’s gaze flits over to him and he gives him a sour look loaded with challenge. Harry swallows thickly and says nothing. 

 

On their way back to the Common Room, they stop by Snape’s office to get some more murtlap salve and the Potions Master invites them both in to his office and demands to know what they’re playing at. Both boys hang their heads and mumbles out some vague excuses. 

 

” _Enough!_ ” Snape barks. ”If either one of you puts so much as _one toe_ out of line from now on…”

 

”Yes, Sir…” they mumble in unison. 

 

”Draco”, Snape snaps and the blonde startles slightly. ”Take this and go wait for Harry in the Common Room.”

 

He holds out the jar of murtlap salve and Draco quickly grabs it from him with a nod. He hurries out of the office, leaving Harry alone with their Head of House. 

 

”Harry, when we spoke yesterday, you promised me you’d get the situation with Umbridge under control and now —”

 

”I don’t know what flew into Draco”, Harry says earnestly. ”Well, I mean, I had no idea at the time… what he was…up to…”

 

”Up to?” Snape repeats suspisciously. 

 

”He… I think he provoked Umbridge on purpose, so that he’d get detention with her as well…”

 

Snape’s eyes widen slightly again. 

 

”He’s going to tell his parents”, he murmurs. ”That boy, I swear…”

 

Sitting down with a heavy sigh, Snape glares at the words carved into the back of Harry’s hand. 

 

”Speaking of which”, he says. ”You should tell your dads, as well, Harry.”

 

”Wh-what?” 

 

”There’s no way that won’t scar”, Snape says, nodding towards the cut and then swallows thickly like he might be sick. ”They should hear it from you…”

 

Harry nods, feeling slightly sick himself. 

 

How _am I going to tell them?_ Harry thinks hopelessly _. How can I possibly?_

 

Snape’s eyes flicker up to meet his again, so Harry nods again.

 

”Harry, I’m… _so_ sorry… I tried to—”

 

”I know”, Harry says quickly, giving the man an awkward smile. 

 

”It’s _not_ all right”, the man hisses furiously. ”Appointing that woman is one thing, but this… even by the Ministry’s standards…” He trails off and lets out a sigh. ”I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will set things to right before the end of the year… but in the meantime, _please,_ Harry… please stay out of Umbridge’s way.”

 

”I will, I promise…”

 

”And make sure to pass the message on to the others, as well… especially the younger students. I think they listen to you more than they listen to me.”

 

Harry blinks in surprise. 

 

”No, Sir, please don’t think that — everyone in Slytherin has the deepest respect for you and anything you say!”

 

”Really…” Snape says drily. 

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. ”It’s just me that’s got a… ehm… problem with impulse control sometimes, is all…”

 

The man’s thin lips give a small twitch, just a ghost of a smirk that flickers onto his face for a split second before it’s gone again and he gives Harry a small nod of acknowledgement. 

 

”Well, me and Seamus”, Harry adds. ”I think it’s the Gryffindor halves in us…”

 

”I had suspected”, the other man mutters. ”Well… do try to remember what House you _did_ get Sorted into in the end, won’t you?”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry smiles. 

 

”Good. Now, get to bed. Do you still have enough Dreamless Sleep left?”

 

”Yeah, I have one dose left”, Harry nods, standing up. 

 

”Good. I’ll brew some more this weekend for your dose next week. Good night, Harry…”

 

”Good night, Sir.”

 


	38. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry it's been a while and that the chapter is so short!

When Harry sneaks inside the dorm, his is the only four poster with open hangings and the glass jar with murtlap salve sits waiting for him in the middle of it. He looks over at Draco’s bed and tries not to burst into tears. He doesn’t know what’s going on with his boyfriend, with _them_ anymore… Draco just wilfully got himself into detention and had his hand carved up for Harry, _all of it_ for Harry and yet _now,_ apparently, they’re going to bed angry. 

 

Draco said he wasn’t upset with him, but what is Harry supposed to think? He’s obviously not _not_ angry with him either, since he’s not even speaking to him… 

 

Sighing heavily, Harry pads over to his bed and sinks down on the edge of it, reaching for the jar and gently pulls the stopper out. 

 

Draco usually does this for him… 

 

_Doesn’t matter,_ Harry tells himself. _Maybe he was just tired. I_ know _he doesn’t deal well with pain._

 

Again, white hot rage for Umbridge flares up inside Harry. 

 

_I’ll bloody show her,_ he vows to himself as he rubs the salve so furiously into the cut on his hand that the words now permanently etched there starts bleeding again. _Damn it_ —

 

”Harry?” 

 

Draco’s whispered voice startles him and he jumps, almost loosing the grip on the glass jar, but catching it again before it crashes to the floor. He looks up to see the blonde’s head sticking out of the hangings on his bed. 

 

”Draco? I… I thought you were asleep…”

 

”No”, Draco murmurs quietly. 

 

”Are you… I mean…” Harry hesitates, then tries again. ”Are you okay?”

 

”I will be.”

 

”Right…”

 

Harry looks down at his clenched fist in his lap, glistening with blood and salve, the skin swollen around the words _I must not tell lies._

 

”Harry?” 

 

”Yeah?” he mumbles, flexing his fingers and watching in mild fascination as new droplets of blood begin to bloom in the gaping cuts. 

 

”I’m scared…”

 

Harry jerks his head up and stares at the other boy in surprise. 

 

”I’m sorry for taking it out on you”, the blonde adds and even though Harry can see his throat working compulsively around what he imagines to be a lump of built up emotion, his voice comes out thin, almost brittle. ”I know that’s… that’s very shitty of me… I’m, I’m a shitty boyfriend—”

 

”Hey…” Harry says, rushing to his feet as the other boy’s voice finally cracks and when his face crumbles, Harry hurries to sit down next to him and gather him into a strong embrace. 

 

He rubs the other boy’s back and arm, hushing him gently as his ragged breaths turn wet and he turns his face into Harry’s chest as if chasing the vibrations of Harry’s heartbeat, but most likely he’s just trying to hide his vulnerability. Harry turns his own head, kissing soft blonde strands of hair and, as a selfish after thought, he inhales the addictive scent of coconut shampoo.

 

”I’m sorry”, Draco whimpers again. 

 

”Don’t be silly, you have nothing to be sorry about”, Hary says firmly, hugging the other boy closer still. 

 

”I want to be brave like you, Harry, but I’m not. I’m just not.”

 

”Gryffindorkish, you mean?” Harry says lightly, but the blonde simply shakes his head. 

 

”I’m a coward, a complete coward.”

 

”Hey…” Harry pulls back slightly and tries to catch the other boy’s eyes, but Draco stubbornly buries his face under his chin. 

 

”And I’m really scared…”

 

”Hey, look at me… Draco? Please, look at me?”

 

The blonde shakes his head again and the cold tip of his nose brushes over the hollow between Harry’s collarbones. 

 

”I think you’re brave”, Harry adds. ”Really. One of the bravest people I know—”

 

”That’s stupid.”

 

”Well, we can’t all be as smart as you…”

 

With a shaky, deep breath Draco finally pulls away from Harry and sits back, wiping his face of tears with trembling fingers. 

 

”Hey…” Harry says again, rubbing his back gently. ”What’s brought this on?”

 

”Nothing… everything”, Draco says, chuckling a little and shaking his head. ”I just got to thinking, while I was waiting for you… Umbridge, detentions… even this”, he holds up is hand in a half-hearted wave and Harry’s stomach churns at the sight of the scratched up skin, even if the cut has at least healed over now. ”It’s nothing — _nothing,_ Harry — compared to what’s waiting for us. Compared to… to _him_ …”

 

Harry swallows, and then slowly nods his head in understanding. Draco’s eyes flicker over his face, then drop away again. _He looks so young_ , Harry thinks. So young, and yet he seems to have aged several lifetimes since this morning. 

 

”It will be okay”, Harry says softly. ”Somehow.”

 

”How can it possibly?” Draco says softly, shaking his head. 

 

”I don’t know…” Harry says honestly. ”But I know it will. I just know it.”

 

They fall asleep carefully curled around each other in Draco’s bed and Harry dreams he’s being chased by angry ravens, pecking at his hands when he covers his head, until finally he escapes into a long, dark tunnel lined with torches. 

 

He slows down, catching his breath as he walks further and further into the tunnel. A sense of deja vú grips him as he reaches a dead end and is left staring at a locked door, unable to go any further.

 

Draco wakes him up at the usual ungodly hour and Harry grumbles into the other boy’s pillow, ”You don’t need over an hour to eat breakfast anymore…”

 

”No, but I need to go to the owlery before”, Draco insists and pokes him again. ”Come on, let’s go.”

 

” _You_ go”, Harry protests weakly, swatting blindly behind him. 

 

”You’re not coming with me?” comes the ridiculously small-voiced reply and Harry sighs heavily into the pillow, his hot breath seeping into the fabric and warming up his whole face.

 

”Fine”, he grunts and pushes himself up to sitting. 

 

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and fumbles for his glasses. By the time the other boy comes into focus, a smug grin is splitting his face in two and Harry shoots him an unimpressed look — just to make it clear that he hadn’t been manipulated into getting up _exactly_ , because he _knew_ what Draco was doing… he just chose to go along with it, because he’s an awesome boyfriend, that’s all…

 

”Well, come on then”, Draco says cheekily. ”Put some clothes on, and let’s go!”

 

Harry flips him the bird, then swiftly turns his hand around and catches the shirt Draco throws at him and puts it on, his sleep-clumsy fingers fumbling with the buttons. 

 

By the time he steps into his shoes, Draco is waiting impatiently by the door with the the note to his mother clutched in his hand and Harry can’t help but to notice the angry scratch still standing out sharply against the marble-white skin. 

 

_I’ll bloody show Umbridge,_ he thinks again. _Somehow, I’ll make her pay._

 

They make the trek to the owlery in comfortable silence and when they get to the top, Harry walks over to say hello to Hedwig while Draco ties his letter to Bertram’s leg and tells him to get it to Narcissa as soon as possible. Hedwig gives an excited hoot when Harry pokes her awake and then nips at his fingers affectionately, even as he tells her he didn’t bring her a treat this time. 

 

”Alright! Ready to go to breakfast then?” 

 

Draco’s voice is cool as a breeze, completely carefree, but it’s _too_ carefree and Harry doesn’t buy it at all. Sure enough, when he looks over his shoulder he immediately sees the tension in the other boy’s shoulders. 

 

”Sure”, he says lightly and gives him a smile. ”Bye, Hedwig. I’ll come by later with some treats for you, okay?”

 

The bird gives him another nip, then sticks her head under her wing for another nap. 

 

They’re just finishing up their breakfast when Bertram swoops down from the rafters and delivers Narcissa’s response and Harry feels his stomach flip over when he watches Draco break the seal with shaky fingers. 

 

”That was quick”, Seamus comments and Harry suspects he just wanted to break some of the sudden tension around the table, as everyone else has stopped whatever they were doing and gone silent, all watching Draco’s face nervously to gauge his reaction. 

 

”What does it say?” Harry asks finally, when almost a full minute has ticked by and Draco’s face remains enervatingly unreadable. 

 

Draco blinks and hands him the letter without a word. Blaise, Pansy and Seamus all scramble up from their seats and lean towards him, crowding around him excitedly to read the message and Harry huffs, elbowing Seamus in the chest when he gets so close to Harry’s face he can smell the cinnamon on his breath. 

 

”Hold it still”, Pansy says sharply, snatching the paper from his hands and holding it up. 

 

 

 

_Draco,_

 

_Your father will speak to the Governors after breakfast and he assures me that the matter will be taken care of promptly, even if he has to take it to the Minister of Magic himself._

 

_However, if I hear of you getting caught doing anything that warrants a detention again, I shall be highly disappointed._

 

_Your mother_

 

 

 

”Well…” Blaise says with an air of finality, settling into his seat again and reaching for his cooling coffee. 

 

Pansy hands the letter over to Draco again and tosses her hair over her shoulder, a thin smirk ghosting over her face. 

 

”Think he would?” Seamus grins mischievously. ”Talk to the Minister?”

 

”Yes”, Draco says simply. 

 

He shoots Harry a sidelong look and Harry smiles, knocking their shoulders together gently. 

 

”I still say we re-decorate her office…” Seamus mutters. 

 

”Shut up, Seamus”, Draco snaps. 

 

Harry laughs as the two begin to bicker good-naturedly. He can’t help it, he feels light-hearted and happy, like he could soar up to the ceiling at any moment. Things will get better now, even if he knows Draco was right last night when he said that all of this is nothing compared to what’s waiting for them out there… but at least for now, here at Hogwarts, things will be all right. 

 

His high spirits last all day — especially when Draco receives a second note from his mother at lunchtime,  informing him that the necessary amendments have been made to the decree concerning methods of discipline to exclude the use of blood quills and related equipment — But they come crashing down on him again in one swell swoop, when a timid-looking Second Year scurries up to him in the Great Hall at dinner and hands him a pink roll of parchment that stinks of lavender. 

 

Harry snatches the string off and unrolls the parchment aggressively. It’s a short note reminding him of his detention in Umbridge’s office at seven o’clock. 

 

”What the Hell…”

 

”What?” Draco says, snatching the parchment from him. ”No, no, no, no — mother assured me — okay — okay, it’s okay, we can fix this —”

 

”Draco, breathe”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”It’s okay, it’s going to be okay” Draco mutters, his eyes flitting all over the place and his breathing speeding up as his thoughts are racing away from him. ”We just have to talk to Severus, and yeah, it’s going to be fine—”

 

”Draco, stop it…”

 

The blonde’s crazed eyes swivel over to him and he frowns incredulously, the pink note crumbling in his fist on the table. Harry sighs. 

 

”There’s no point”, he says gently. ”Professor Snape won’t be able to do anything about it, anyway. He’s already tried, remember?”

 

”But now it’s illegal”, Draco insists. ”It’s actually _illegal_ , she can’t—!”

 

”We don’t know that”, Harry counters. ”I know your father works fast, Draco, but _one day_ … Look. It’s fine. I can take it.”

 

_I_ can _take it,_ he keeps telling himself as he’s walking towards Umbridge’s office after dinner, and as he sits down at the small rickety table and starts scribbling out the dreaded words onto the parchment waiting for him. 

 

He never mentions the Malfoys, doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction. He just keeps his head down and the blood quill moving. 

 

Two hours in, Umbridge lets out one of her ridiculous little coughs and he stops writing abruptly, the last line reading _”I must”_

 

His left hand is pounding, but he avoids looking at the back of it, scared to see the damage tonight has caused. Professor Snape’s words echo in his head: _there’s no way that won’t scar… you should tell your dads… they should hear it from you…_

 

”Let’s have a look, then”, Umbridge says softly and Harry jerks his head up, startled to see her standing over him suddenly, one of her flabby hands held out towards him expectantly. ”Ah yes… much better… I think we’re done for tonight, Mister Potter.”

 

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He snatches his hand back from her and jumps to his feet. 

 

”Good evening, Mister Potter”, Umbridge says pointedly at his back, but he ignores her and hurries out of the office. 

 

When he walks into the Common Room, he’s nearly mauled over by a very livid Draco waving a piece of parchment around in silent fury and Harry staggers back from him and gently cradles his injured hand to his chest with a frown, but for once the cut on his hand is not the first thing the blonde notices. In fact he seems so outraged by whatever is written on the parchment, that he barely notices anything else around him. 

 

”Give the bloke a chance to sit down at least”, Pansy says in a long-suffering voice from the other side of the Common Room.

 

”They okayed it”, Draco says shrilly. ”Immediately. Fudge himself. Said it was outrageous that they should even have to put it into the decree, that it should go without saying. Sent her an owl this morning. _This morning,_ Harry!”

 

”Okay, calm down”, Harry says, backing up another step as the blonde accidentally steps on his toes. 

 

” _She knew_! She bloody well _knew!_ ”

 

”Can I have a seat and put some murtlap on my cut, please? Before you start hollering in my face—?”

 

”HARRY! She was explicitly told by her boss to stop using the fucking blood quill! _This morning_! And then she sent you that fucking note!”

 

”I heard you”, Harry snaps, shoving past the other boy and collapsing next to Pansy on the sofa. ”Obviously her hate for me is stronger than her love for Fudge! But it doesn’t matter now, does it? That was it, my last detention. It’s over now.”

 

”You don’t care?” Draco says incredulously, his eyes wide and slightly manic. 

 

”Well, what do you want to do about it?” Harry counters. ”Organise a protest?”

 

” _I want her fired!_ ”

 

”Yeah, well…” Harry says, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. ”I think we all want that. But I doubt it will happen.”

 

Pansy hands him the jar of murtlap salve with a thin smile and he accepts it gratefully. As soon as he’s lathered a generous amount of the salve across the back of his hand and the magical properties have begun to soothe the searing pain, he looks around and notices everyone’s tired and almost pained expressions and he wonders just how long Draco has been venting about this before he showed up. 

 

”I want her fired too”, Harry says again. ”And I want to get back at her. I really do. But just in case Fudge or Dumbledore can’t get her to stop doing whatever she wants, we all need to be a lot more careful from now on… and yeah, I know, me especially… believe me, I don’t plan to get any more detentions with her. Even if I have to granger the fuck out of her, I will stay in her good books from now on!”

 

”Did you just use Granger as a verb?” Pansy asks with a lightly raised eyebrow. ”I like it.”

 

Harry shoots her a smirk. 

 

”I can’t believe you’re all so relaxed about this?” Draco says, flapping his hands in frustration. 

 

Harry leans his head back over the backrest of the sofa and sighs heavily. 

 

”Well, I’m not”, Draco continues stubbornly. ”I am going to make her pay.”

 

”Draco”, Blaise says in his calmest, most patient voice. ” _You’re_ the one who said it would be too dangerous and stupid to do anything—”

 

”That was before”, Draco snaps.

 

The blonde continues to pace in front of the them and there is a loaded pause as everyone in the group seem to simultaneously swallow their sighs, while exchanging subtle looks with each other. 

 

”I want to make her pay… I want to make her suffer…” 

 

”Why don’t we sleep on it?” Harry suggests gently. 

 

”Good idea”, Blaise says and jumps to his feet decisively. 

 

He makes a beeline for the dorms and the others eagerly follow suit, leaving Harry alone with the still pacing Draco. 

 

He swallows another sigh, but can’t help but to smile at his agitated boyfriend, grumbling furiously under his breath, his hands twitching with excessive energy at his sides. 

 

The unwanted memory of when he was transfigured into a ferret jumps to the forefront of Harry’s mind, just before Moody begun to bounce him up and down, when he’d sort of twitched on the floor and then tried to make a run for it… 

 

Harry sidles up to him now, blocking his path and gingerly sneaking his arms around his body in a tentative embrace. Draco stops pacing immediately, his hands finally going still on top of Harry’s shoulders but his eyes continue to flicker all over the place, his mind obviously still jumbled with furious thoughts. 

 

”We’ll get her…” Harry murmurs, brushing his lips over the other boy’s cheek. 

 

”Yeah”, Draco says, nodding. ”Yeah, we will. We’ll get her. We’ll make her pay.”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says, soothingly. ”But first… bed.”

 

The next day being a Saturday, Draco allows Harry to sleep in to a reasonable time in the morning and the fact that he doesn’t insist on dragging Harry out of bed before dawn lures Harry into a false sense of security and he thinks, rather naively, that the blonde has calmed down and possibly even dropped the idea of getting back at Umbridge, but as they make their way out of the Great Hall again after breakfast and Draco immediately pulls Harry towards the great marble staircase instead of the direction of the dungeons, he begins to suspect this was rather foolish of him… 

 

”Where are we going?” he asks in trepidation as the blonde continues to pull on his arm in determination. 

 

”Library”, Draco says shortly. 

 

”We don’t have our homework”, Harry reminds him, but dutifully climbs the stairs after him. 

 

”We can do the homework later”, Draco says dismissively. ”I want to do some research…”

 

”For what?” Harry asks warily.

 

”Not here”, the blonde mutters under his breath. 

 

Harry swallows a huff and doesn’t say anything else. 

 

When they get to the library on the third floor, Draco commandeers a small table in the far back and then slowly but steadily begins to fill it up with books on hexes and curses. But it’s when he drops an especially heavy tome about _untracable poisons_ on the table with a _thump_ and then sits down and begins to pour over it with the same furious determination that he’d had the night before, when he was pacing the floor of the common room, that Harry realises with a sinking feeling that he hasn’t given up the idea of revenge at all. 

 

”Draco…” he says slowly. 

 

”Start reading”, the blonde snaps. 

 

Harry sighs. 

 

”What?” Draco demands, his steely eyes flitting up to Harry’s face and pinning him with a slightly manic look. 

 

”We’re not going to _poison_ her”, Harry says quietly. ”So why don’t you _calm down_ , and then we can talk about this…”

 

Draco opens his mouth to retort, but before he gets a word out, Ron and Granger suddenly walks up to their table and he swivels his head around to glare at them instead. 

 

”Look, it wasn’t personal, I just needed Umbridge to give me detention”, he tells them roughly. ”We don’t want to _fight_ —!”

 

The two Gryffindors give him odd looks, but completely ignore his comment and turn to address Harry instead. 

 

”Harry, do you have a minute to talk?” Granger asks seriously. 

 

”Er…”

 

”The thing is”, the girl ploughs on passionately without encouragement. ”Professor Umbridge’s way of teaching is a _joke_. We’re not learning _any_ spells and at this rate, our entire year is going to _fail_ our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL! Not to mention we won’t be able to defend ourselves out in the real world either!”

 

”Ehm… yeah”, Harry says awkwardly.

 

”Well, we were thinking—”

 

Ron lets out a pointed cough and she shoots him a sour look and shakes some of her hair out of her face, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. 

 

”Oh, all right, _I_ was thinking”, she amends irritably. ”We need to take matters into our own hands! If we’re to learn to defend ourselves, we’ll just have to teach ourselves!”

 

”Er, all right…”

 

”Don’t you agree?” she demands, her eyes flashing with excitement. 

 

”I…”

 

”And we were also thinking, we’d need someone to lead us, you know, if we were to create a… _study group_ , let’s say… someone with a little more experience in defending themselves against the Dark Arts really ought to be the leader of that group, don’t you think?”

 

”I mean… yeah, that’s… yeah”, Harry says, frowning. ”But why are you telling us? You’re asking us to join your study group?”

 

”No, no — well, sort of — we were thinking maybe you could lead—?”

 

Harry widens his eyes and quickly shakes his head. 

 

”But—” Granger begins to protest.

 

”No, no way”, Harry says, shaking his head firmly. ”Sorry, there’s no way—”

 

Granger suddenly slams her hand down on the table and the three boys jump. 

 

”Sorry”, she says quickly and Harry stares at the Gryffindor, who at least has the grace to look sheepish as she stuffs her balled up fist into her pocket. 

 

”Will you at least think about it?” she asks carefully. 

 

Harry grudgingly agrees to, but thinks to himself that there’s no way he’s going to start a secret DADA group with a bunch of Gryffindors right under Umbridge’s nose and risk the wrath of both his dads and Professor Snape. Not to mention Draco, he thinks as the blonde leans in to hiss in his ear about Granger already losing her mind over the OWLs already. 

 

”By the end of the year, she’ll go on a rampage and kill us all”, he murmurs darkly. 

 

Harry snorts and shakes his head.

 

They’re sitting in the Common room later that evening when a shooting pain suddenly erupts in Harry’s scar. He gasps and clamps his hand over his forehead, focusing on his breathing until the nausea subsides and the pain gradually simmers down again, and only then does he become aware of Draco’s arm around his shoulders and everyone in the Common Room staring at him in alarm. 

 

”I’m… I’m fine… it’s nothing”, he says breathlessly, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. 

 

He slowly leans away from Draco and grabs his things. Draco is watching him worriedly and he gives him a shaky smile. 

 

”I’m fine”, he repeats. ”Just tired. I’m going to bed, all right?”

 

The blonde nods mutely and even though the worried glint is still present in his steel grey eyes he lets Harry retreat without objection and Harry is extremely grateful for that. As much as he loves it when Draco comforts him, right now he really just wants to be alone… because it wasn’t just that his scar had hurt, he thinks grimly as he lumbers down the stone steps towards the dorm. He was also filled with a _feeling_ … and it wasn’t _his_ feeling, that’s the scary part. It was _Voldemort’s_. 

 

He lets his book bag drop to the floor with a _clunk_ and curls up on top of his bed, hugging one of his pillows to his chest as he closes his eyes and thinks back… a rush of images erupts inside his mind and he remembers hearing voices, howling voices but filtered as though he’d heard them from below the surface of the water in the lake… none of it makes any sense to Harry, but he remembers feeling a surge of pure rage when the pain shot through his head and _just knows_ that wherever Voldemort is and whatever he was doing tonight, he was _angry —_

 

_Because he wants something done,_ Harry thinks. _And it’s not happening fast enough._

 

He blinks his eyes open in surprise and stares out into the gloom. He doesn’t know where that thought had come from, but as soon as it popped into his head, he just knew it was the truth.  

 

 

*

 

 

Their first Quidditch match of the season — meeting Gryffindor — approaches and Draco, despite promising Harry to leave Ron alone, designs buttons reading _”Weasley is our King”_ and convinces all the Slytherins to wear one — Harry being the only one refusing, much to the blonde’s annoyance — and insists it’s not breaking his promise at all, because Ron started it.

 

”What do you mean Ron started it?” Harry exclaims in a long-suffering voice and giving the blonde an exasperated look. ”He hasn’t done _anything_ to you! We’ve barely even seen him all week!”

 

”Dean Thomas told Seamus that Weasley had told him that Gryffindor had the match in the bag, because _I’d_ be too busy worrying about my hair to score any goals”, Draco says in a rush. 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

”See”, Draco points a finger at him. ”He started it—!”

 

”Did you just make that up?”

 

Draco purses his lips and glares back at him. 

 

”…maybe—”

 

Harry huffs and rolls his eyes. 

 

”Okay, so he didn’t start anything _per se_ —”

 

”Take the fucking button off—” Harry demands, moving to tear it from the other boy’s robes front but he bends out of reach and swats his hand away. ”You promised!”

 

”It doesn’t count!” Draco insists, moving further away from him and holding his hands out in front of him like shields. ”It’s quidditch! It’s a tactic! _All’s fair in_ —!”

 

”Oh for fuck’s sake”, Harry throws his hands up and sits back in his seat. ”Do what you want, I give up!”

 

”Are you going to be angry about it though?” Draco asks, squinting at him suspisciously. 

 

Harry sighs heavily and rubs his hands over his face, then shakes his head. 

 

”Promise?” Draco insists. 

 

”Will you take it off if I say ’no’?” Harry counters with a half-hearted glare in the blonde’s direction, then sighs again. ”No… I won’t be angry…”

 

”Good”, Draco mumbles, warily sinking into his seat at the sofa again. ”Because I kind of wrote this song—”

 

”What?” Harry snaps. 

 

”—to go with the buttons, as well—”

 

”Draco!”

 

”It’s just an innocent joke type of song, you know like a cheer, but ironic, but it’s all in good fun—”

 

”Draco…”

 

”Oh, come on! It will be fun! Besides the buttons won’t make any sense without it, I mean, _’Weasley is our King’_? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

”That Ron is such a bad Keeper he will win the match for us?”

 

”Well”, Draco says, his lips twitching. ”Not everyone is as clever as you, they’ll need some context to get the joke…”

 

”Do what you want”, Harry mutters again. 

 

”It will make you laugh”, Draco says, draping himself over Harry’s side and nuzzling the side of his face. ”Promise.”

 

Harry grumbles quietly, but turns his head to give the blonde a quick peck on the lips and recieves a devilish smile in return. 

 

The fact that Harry had begrudgingly agreed that if it could in any way be construed as a _tactic_ to win a _quidditch match_ , then he wouldn’t be angry with Draco for doing it, Draco had apparently taken to mean that he was now allowed to tease, pester and psychologically terrorise Ron and anyone else on the Gryffindor team as much as he wanted, during the week leading up to the first match of the year because he takes every opportunity to cause the Gryffindors grief. 

 

Harry has to swallow _yet another sigh_ as the blonde imitates Ron dropping a Quaffle next to him, something he’s started doing whenever the redhead is in sight. 

 

”Just ignore him”, he hears Granger hiss across the courtyard and she then pulls Ron away just as the boy’s ears start growing red. 

 

Draco immediately stops acting and turns his head towards Harry, smirking proudly. Harry simply raises an eyebrow at him. 

 

”Pansy thought that was funny”, Draco mutters petulantly. 

 

”So did I”, Harry retorts. ”The first five times you did it…”

 

”Are you calling me predictable?”

 

”Yes.”

 

Draco purses his lips and then, with no warning whatsoever, he slaps Harry hard over the head. 

 

”OW! What the hell—!”

 

”How’s that for predictable?”

 

” _You lunatic—_!”

 

”Don’t be a baby, I didn’t hit you _hard_ —”

 

” _Yes, you did_ — _mmphhm_ —!” Harry’s protest is suddenly smoothered when the blonde leans into kiss him and his heart stutters in his chest, because, _Draco is kissing him in a hallway where anyone can see them —_

 

Just as suddenly as it started, the kiss is over again. Harry blinks stupidly at the other boy, who takes a deep breath and looks away nonchalantly. 

 

”What…”

 

”What?” Draco says coolly, raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

”What… the hell… was _that?_ When I said you were predictable, it wasn’t _a challenge_ —!”

 

”Of course it was”, Draco sniffs. ”Any insult to a person’s honour is a challenge.”

 

”Insult to…” Harry shakes his head in wonder. ”Bloody purebloods…”

 

Draco shrugs, clearly not too bothered, his attention caught by something across the courtyard and Harry follows his line of sight to see the Weasley twins standing with their heads together, muttering passionately about something. _Probably those skiving treats they’re selling,_ he thinks. 

 

Then a thought suddenly strikes him and he swivels his head back to glare at Draco. 

 

”Tell me what you’re planning!”

 

”What?” Draco frowns at him in confusion. 

 

”You’re planning something and I want to know what it is. Tell me.”

 

”I’ve told you already, I just wrote a song and designed some badges and that’s it—”

 

”Not Ron”, Harry says shaking his head dismissively. ”Toadface.”

 

Draco’s eyes immediately shutter, but he sniffs indifferently and says, ”I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

 

”Yes, you do. Don’t lie to me”, Harry says sternly. ”You haven’t mentioned her in days and you’ve stopped reading your books, which means you’ve already come up with a plan for revenge and _I want to know what it is!_ — Draco — please tell me you’re not going to poison her—!”

 

” _Shhhh!_ ” the blonde says harschly, glancing around them worriedly. 

 

” _Draco!_ ”

 

”Of course I’m not!”

 

”Or do _anything_ to her that could get you sent to Azkaban?” Harry adds desperately. 

 

”I’m not going to do anything to her”, Draco says slowly and fixes Harry with an intense look. 

 

”You…” Harry trails off uncertainly.

 

He’d like to think he can read Draco well enough at this point to know when he’s lying, but… _it just doesn’t make any sense…_ Harry’s gut feeling is telling him that the other boy is telling the truth, but he just can’t see him dropping it so easily either… 

 

” _I’m_ not”, Draco adds with a meaningful look. 

 

”Wait, what…?”

 

”You’ll see”, Draco says and smirks.

 


	39. Deaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the first Quidditch game of the year and for a fleeting moment it looks like everything in Harry's life is, for once, simply awesome. Of course, it doesn't last for very long.

It’s the evening before the big match — Slytherin versus Gryffindor — and the Common Room is abuzz with excitement. Harry and Draco sit cuddled up on a loveseat near the fire, chatting and joking with Blaise and the girls, who are all sprawled out at their feet, while Seamus and Theodore sit squeezed together on an armchair next to them trading Quidditch Players (collectable cards featuring famous Quidditch players through the ages) until finally, around ten o’clock, Flint marches up to them and barks at Harry and Draco to go to bed. 

 

”E-excuse me—?” Draco stutters in surprise. 

 

”You heard me!” Flint says gruffly. ”Big day tomorrow. Get some rest. Go on, get!”

 

Harry and Draco awkwardly untangle themselves from each other and push to their feet. 

 

”It’s only ten…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”I don’t want to hear it, Potter!” Flint snaps. ”You better get at least eight hours of solid sleep tonight — and no shagging either!”

 

Harry feels like his cheeks have suddenly burst into flame and shoots his friends a sour look when they erupt in snickers and giggles at their feet. 

 

Draco on the other hand simply smirks, his cheeks as pale and flawless as ever, even as he grabs a cushion from the loveseat and lobs at Blaise’s head. The cushion bounces off the the dark-haired boy’s face, but it only causes him to laugh harder. 

 

Harry forces out a strained chuckle.

 

Draco’s eyes flicker away from Blaise again and lock with Harry’s suddenly. He doesn’t seem at all horrified, or even remotely embarassed, that Flint just suggested to the entire Common Room that he and Harry are having… having… having _sex —_ as if that’s not a big deal at all. 

 

 _And maybe it isn’t?_ Harry thinks as he trails after the blonde towards the dorm.

 

Maybe it’s just Harry who thinks that… that… _sex_ … is a big deal. 

 

 _Maybe_ Harry is the decidedly _uncool dork_ who can’t even look at a picture of two wizards lying naked together, without feeling like he’ll explode with heat and embarassment?

 

His thoughts are momentarily interrupted when they reach their respective beds and Draco steps up close to him. Harry automatically holds his breath as he stares up into the other boy’s face and Draco gives him a small smile that looks way too innocent to really be innocent, then leans down and gives him a peck of the lips and murmurs _good night,_ the _faux innocent smile_ still in place. 

 

Harry ends up lying awake for what feels like hours fretting over why Draco hadn’t seemed bothered by Flint suggesting they’re ’shagging’ and why he’d been smiling at Harry like that. 

 

 _Maybe Draco doesn’t think sex is a big deal at all,_ he thinks. _Maybe he’s not at all nervous about having it for the first time, maybe he’s expecting us to have it any day now, maybe he’s even wondering why we’re not having it already,_ maybe _—_

 

 _Stop. Breathe,_ Harry tells himself firmly, turning over to his other side and giving his pillow a determined _thump_ to make it fluffier, before settling down to try and sleep again. But he makes a mental note to read the rest of that blasted book as soon as possible…

 

The next morning, when Draco shakes his shoulder insistently to wake him up, Harry is sure he’s just fallen asleep and it’s with sluggishly slow movements that he drags himself out of bed and into his Quidditch robes. Draco gives him a worried look, the one that asks him whether he’s been having nightmares, Harry notes. He gives the other boy a small shake of his head, and the worry more or less disappears from his grey eyes again. 

 

When they get to ground level and Harry can see the faded white sky outside the windows, his spirits are lifted considerably. No rain and yet no direct sunlight means excellent visibility and if it’s not too windy either, the conditions will be more or less perfect. 

 

His spirits are lifted even further when he spots Hedwig zooming down from the rafters in the Great Hall. She lands expertlh next to his porridge bowl and gives his fingers a playful nip when he unties the letter from her leg. He smiles at her and feeds her a piece of bacon from Seamus’ plate, before unrolling the letter from his dads. 

 

He feels a sudden swoop in his stomach as he reads the short message, telling him both his dads are coming to see the game.

 

Neither of his dads have seen him play an actual, real game before. Mainly because he’s only ever played one. Back in Second Year he played against Gryffindor and caught the snitch despite his arm being broken, winning the match. Sirius had actually planned to come and see that game, but he’d been called in to work at the last minute and couldn’t make it and Harry isn’t sure what excuse Remus had given him at the time, but now he knows that he’d still been recovering from the full moon. 

 

They had both said at the time that they would come and see the next one, but then of course the House Cup got completely cancelled due to the attacks. And at the end of the year, Harry got banned from playing altogether until last year, when the Cup got cancelled yet again, because of the Triwizard Tournament. 

 

Sirius keeps joking that if he’d have known it would turn out to be the _only time_ Harry would ever play a game, he would have called in _dead_ to work that day. 

 

Harry is equal parts excited and nervous about today’s match, because it will be his first since that one game in Second Year and only his second game _ever,_ but also because _finally_ his dads will get to see him play Seeker.

 

Harry eagerly shows Draco the letter and beams at him. The blonde nods in acknowledgement, then snorts softly at the look on his face but the smirk on his own face almost instantly softens and his eyes twinkle with affection. 

 

”They’ve never seen me play”, Harry says half-defensively, but the effect is somewhat diminished by the massive grin on his face and even if he wanted to, he doesn’t think he could reign it in. 

 

”I’m happy for you”, Draco murmurs, his smile twitching as he gives his own letter a small wave. ”My parents can’t make it.”

 

”I’m happy for you too”, Harry says cheekily. 

 

Draco chuckles and nods in agreement, but there’s a small glint of something less than happy in his eyes that makes Harry’s good spirits immediately sink again and his chest feel tight. 

 

”Hey…” he adds seriously, touching his fingers gingerly to the other boy’s arm and Draco’s eyes flicker back to meet his. ”You’re not… you know… sad about that, or anything, are you?”

 

”No”, Draco says immediately and huffs haughtily. ”I don’t care.”

 

”Okay…” Harry murmurs, even though Draco is clearly lying. 

 

Flint comes marching up the length of the Slytherin table and barks at them to finish up their breakfast already, so that they can make their way over to the Quidditch pitch and check out the conditions. Draco drains his coffee and stands up, offering Harry a hand as he untangles himself from the bench and accidentally snags his foot on the edge of the seat. Flint rolls his eyes at him. 

 

”Let’s go everyone, so we can get Potter in the air before he has an accident…” he says drily. 

 

The rest of the team sniggers good-naturedly at Harry, who glares back half-heartedly. Draco keeps his hand on his arm, cupping his elbow loosely until he’s standing firmly on both feet and even then he gives his arm a gentle squeeze before letting go. Harry shoots him a grateful look. 

 

”Come on…” Draco murmurs quietly. ”Let’s rattle some lions…”

 

The team makes its way down the grassy slope, now crisp with frost that crunch softly under their feet and then stand around Flint as he marches up and down the length of the pitch, muttering to himself and every so often glaring up at the sky. Harry and Draco exchange a subtle look, but then quickly have to look away again before they burst out laughing.

 

By the time the rest of the school starts arriving and filling up the stands, Flint orders them all to put their game faces on and they move to stand in the middle of the pitch to wait for the Gryffindor team and Madam Hooch to join them. A roar of cheers erupts suddenly from the Slytherin stands, signalling the arrival of Harry’s and Draco’s friends and they both turn to wave up at them happily. 

 

Harry feels his stomach jolt pleasantly when he sees his dads squeezed together between Seamus and Professor Snape, looking slightly out of place but grinning proudly back at him and — Harry lets out an incredulous chuckle — they’re both wearing _Slytherin scarves_!

 

”What?” Draco mumbles. 

 

”My dads…” Harry says happily, waving at them a last time before turning back around.

 

Madam Hooch comes striding up to them, placing the ball crate on the ground at Flint’s feet. Shortly after, the doors to the changing rooms open and the Gryffindor team hurries outside, lead by the determined team captain, Angelina Johnson. She stops short merely a metre away from Flint and returns his icy glare full-on. 

 

Harry feels a grudginy respect for the girl, especially when Hooch demands she and Flint shake hands and Flint tries his hardest to crush her fingers and she doesn’t even flinch.

 

Hooch releases the balls and blows her whistle. All fourteen players soar into the air and scatter across the Stadium. Harry dodges a bludger and zooms even higher up, scanning the air for a glint of gold. He’s vaguely aware of Lee Jordan’s commentary, but tries to zone it out. He can’t afford to lose his focus —

 

”And it’s Johnson with the quaffle — what a player that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years, but she still won’t go out with me—”

 

” _Jordan!_ ” Professor McGonagall yells, cutting him off.

 

 _Focus_ , Harry tells himself. 

 

”— and she’s side-flown Montague, what finesse, what grace, what — _ouch!_ — she’s hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe there, Malfoy catching the Quaffle… Malfoy heading back up the pitch… _Oh_ , that was a close one! Nice Bludger from George Weasley there, but Malfoy is a fast little ferret —”

 

”JORDAN!”

 

”Just an expression, Professor! — OH! — Malfoy ducks another Bludger, bloody hell — but there Fred Weasley’s got him—!”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest and he swerves around instinctively to check that Draco is okay. He sees a white-blonde head bowed low over a broomstick on the other end of the pitch, but the boy quickly rights himself again and swerves around to pursue Katie Bell, who’s now got the Quaffle and is zooming back towards the Slytherin side of the Stadium. 

 

”— and she passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet dodges Flint, avoids a Bludger — close call — careful, Alicia! — _Oh, no!_ — erm, _I mean_ , good Bludger from Goyle there, and Spinnet’s lost the Quaffle, Malfoy’s caught it and he passes to Montague, who passes to Flint  — oh, but the crowd is loving this, just listen to them, what’s that they’re singing?”

 

As Lee Jordan pauses his booming commentary to listen, Harry can hear cheerful singing break through the din of the audience and the rushing of the wind in his ears and he looks down towards the Slytherin stands to see Pansy directing the other Slytherins like a choir. 

 

” _Weasley cannot save a thing, he cannot block a single ring, that’s why Slytherins all sing; Weasley is out King—!_ ”

 

”—AND IT’S FLINT WITH THE QUAFFLE STILL!” Lee Jordan hollers hurriedly to drown the song out again. ”He’s heading for goal, out of Bludger range—”

 

” _Weasley was born in a bin! He always lets the Quaffle in—!”_

 

 _”—_ with just the Keeper ahead and it’s the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley—” 

 

 _”—Weasley will make sure we win! WEASLEY IS OUR KING!_ ”

 

”—brother of Beaters Fred and George and a promising new talent—”

 

”WEASLEY IS OUR KING! WEASLEY IS OUR KING!” 

 

”— _Ahhh_ —” Jordan’s exclamation of disappointment, as well as the singing, is momentarily drowned out by a massive roar of noise. ”Slytherin Score! Bad luck, Ron! So that’s ten-nil to Slytherin…”

 

” _WEASLEY IS OUR KING — HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN — THAT’S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING,_ WEASLEY IS OUR KING!”

 

Shaking his head, Harry tunes both the singing and the commentary out again and refocuses on finding the Snitch. 

 

Something glints in his peripheral and, acting on pure instinct, Harry throws himself flat along his broomstick and hurtles forward into a dive… it’s only when he’s halfway across the Stadium that he realises that he’s not in pursuit of the Snitch at all, but his teammate Montague’s wristwatch. 

 

Swearing loudly to himself, he pulls out of the dive again and zooms back up into the air. He flies a lap around the pitch, scanning his surroundings eagerly… then suddenly, _he sees it_ —

 

Fluttering a few feet from the ground near the Slytherin goal hoops, the Golden Snitch is zipping from side to side as though swaying to the rhythm of _Weasley Is Our King,_ which is still ringing out throughout the Stadium, despite the rowdy cheers and boos of the rest of the audience which has reached an almost deafening level at this point, and Harry’s stomach jolts — 

 

He swerves so fast, he almost topples off his broom, but he quickly rights himself again and then _he is off!_

 

”— good maneouvre by Malfoy there, he’s ferreted his way past another Bludger and he’s got the Quaffle, he’s — oh, hang on! — looks like Potter has spotted the Snitch!” Jordan shouts. ”And McLaggen is close on his tail, but I don’t think —”

 

Harry is vaguely aware of a streak of red and yellow pelting towards him from his right. 

 

”OH SHIT — _Sorry, Professor — but — Slytherin score and —!_ ”

 

The Snitch darts off towards the left and Harry doesn’t think, just flattens himself along his broom and dives. His fingers close around the feebly struggling little ball, its delicate wings beating fruitlessly as Harry pulls out of his dive again and holds it up triumphantly —

 

WHAM!

 

Something collides with him suddenly and knocks him off his broom. He falls and lands in a graceless heap on the frosty grass. The fall isn’t high enough to seriously hurt him, only knock the wind out of him. If anything, his Nimbus hurts him more when it clatters on top of him. 

 

At first he thinks he must have been hit by a Bludger and when the cheering from the stands morphs into outraged shouts and boos, he thinks whoever beat it at him must have done so illegally after he’d caught the Snitch.

 

He pushes himself up to sitting. Next to him McLaggen gets to his feet as well, scowling at him. It takes Harry a moment to process the situation and realise that he wasn’t hit by a Bludger at all, but McLaggen had flown into him. Madam Hooch blows her whistle furiously and lands next to them both. When she starts yelling at McLaggen, Harry looks away. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” Draco screams and in the next moment, the blonde more or less crash lands next to him, grabbing at his shoulders desperately. 

 

”I’m fine”, Harry reassures him and then, almost as an afterthought, he holds up his hand still clutching the struggling Snitch. ”And I got the Snitch! We won!”

 

”I know we did, you clumsy fool!” Draco says in a rush. ”Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

 

”Clumsy”, Harry says indignantly. ” _He_ flew into _me_!”

 

In the next moment, the rest of the team lands around them. Flint is beaming, shouting praise at Harry for catching the Snitch, while the rest are showing varying degrees of worry at his fall. Draco helps him to his feet and takes the oppurtunity to put his arm around his waist under the guise of supporting his weight. 

 

”I’m fine”, Harry insists again under his breath. 

 

”Shhh”, Draco whispers, his smirk twitching mischieviously. ”You’ve sprained your ankle.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes at him, but can’t stop himself from grinning widely. It falters slightly when he catches sight of Ron on the other side of the pitch, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he makes his way to the changing room on his own. But the feeling of the Snitch’s wings batting against his hand, and Draco’s strong arm around him, soon overpowers his sympathy for the redhead and he beams back at his teammates as they jump up and down, cheering happily. 

 

Draco leans in close, his nose nudging the side of Harry’s face, murmuring quietly, ”Oh and thanks for letting me score before catching the Snitch…”

 

”That was an accident”, Harry says, blushing. 

 

”And he’s honest”, Draco mutters.

 

Harry’s dads has made their way down from the Slytherin stands and jog up to him and his teammates. Remus eyes flit over his body quickly, clearly taking inventory of any injuries. 

 

”I’m fine!” Harry says hurriedly, stepping away from Draco and raising his arms a little in some hesitant half-wave, to illustrate his point. 

 

”You were brilliant, Harry!” Sirius exclaims proudly, pushing in front of Remus and enveloping him in a massive hug. 

 

”Th-thanks!” Harry gasps, chuckling. 

 

As soon as Sirius steps back, Remus darts forward and envelops him in a massive hug that lifts him off his feet. It takes all of Harry’s self-control not to follow his instinctive impulse to wrap his legs around his daddy waist, like he’s always done growing up, keenly aware that it would be _way too embarassing_ to do that now in front of the whole school. As if sensing Harry’s embarassment, Remus lets go of him again after a record three seconds and with only a brief caress over his head he then steps back from him entirely.

 

”Amazing flying”, he says, smiling. ”You too, Draco. That was a really good score.”

 

”Well, wasn’t much of a challenge with the Keeper covering the wrong hoop…” Draco mutters haughtily to the snickers of the other team members, but the subtle pink blush in his cheeks tells Harry he’s secretly pleased by the compliment and he remembers the sad glint in his eyes when he’d said his parents weren’t coming to the game. 

 

Feeling a stab in his chest, Harry’s arm shoots out with the impulse to grab his hand but he catches himself just in time and simply knocks his knuckles against the outside of the other boy’s hand. Draco glances over at him, but his face remains a mask. 

 

The rest of the Slytherins stampede onto the pitch, swarming around them, cheering ecstatically. Harry’s dads beam at him and with a couple of final pats on his shoulder they tell him they’ll see him at Christmas. 

 

”You’re leaving?” he says, feeling slightly disappointed. 

 

”You don’t want us around”, Sirius says, shoving him slightly. ”You’ve got some celebrations to get on with!”

 

”We’ll see you soon”, Remus says, stealing another hug. 

 

”Okay, see you then…” Harry mumbles, hugging him back. 

 

”PARTY IN THE COMMON ROOM!” Seamus shouts at the top of his voice, but it’s quickly drowned out by a deafening roar of cheers. 

 

”We’ll see you there”, Adrian says, nodding towards the changing rooms. 

 

As the rest of the team begins to follow him and the others head towards the castle in what can only be described as a raucous conga line, lead by Seamus and Pansy who begin to sing _Weasley Is Our King_ again, Draco discreetly grabs Harry’s hand and stops him from following the rest of the team to the changing rooms. He turns back around and gives the blonde a questioning look. 

 

”Let’s go somewhere else”, he says cryptically. 

 

”Okay”, Harry says slowly. ”But… Shower first?”

 

Draco smirks and shakes his head, pulling on his hand slightly.

 

”You won’t need it.”

 

”What?” Harry says nonplussed, but allows himself to dragged towards the castle. 

 

Draco makes sure to walk slowly enough that they don’t catch up with the other Slytherins, but their singing can still be heard just slightly ahead of them. It reminds Harry of Ron walking towards the changing rooms by himself, his shoulders slumped…

 

”Don’t start…” Draco mutters. 

 

”What? I didn’t even say anything—!”

 

”I can hear you _thinking_ … come on, we’re _celebrating_!”

 

”Are we? I thought you said—?”

 

” _We_ are celebrating…” Draco repeats and gives him a meaningful look. 

 

Harry swallows thickly. 

 

”Wh-where?” he asks, aiming for cool but probably missing by a mile. 

 

”You’ll see…” Draco says, smirking playfully. 

 

Draco leads him up to the castle and continues to pull on his arm insistently, all the way up to the fifth floor and every time Harry tries to ask him where they’re going — about once every floor — he just shoots him a secretive smirk and just shakes his head.

 

Finally they reach a statue of a rather bewildered looking wizard who appeared to have been depicted with his gloves on the wrong hands. Draco walk up to a door on the statue’s left and whispers something, then turns the doorknob and opens the door. 

 

Harry can only gape in wonder as he looks around the room. It’s a bathroom, but it’s more magnificent than any bathroom Harry has ever seen before. A bath tub (or more accurately, a small swimming pool) takes up most of the room and the walls are lines with wooden benches and tall windows through which daylight streams in, filtered through the different coloured glass panes that create various beautiful patterns or pictures, like so many of Hogwarts windows do. 

 

”What is this place?” he asks in an unconsciously hushed voice. 

 

”Prefect’s bathroom”, Draco says smiling proudly. ”Do you like it?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry gushes. ”It’s awesome! But am I allowed to be in here?”

 

Draco shrugs, still smiling. He steps up closer to Harry and gently drags his hands up his arms, then lets them settle on top of his shoulders. 

 

”Who’s going to find out?”

 

”I don’t know… maybe there’s some spell…”

 

Draco snorts and shakes his head, then leans down and captures Harry’s lips in a gentle kiss. Harry eagerly deepens it and as the kiss gets heated, they both begin to unfasten each other’s arm guards and the clasps of the other’s robes, before pulling off their own leather gloves and leg guards, then finally toeing off their boots. 

 

Then with surprising speed, despite the awkward fumbling, they manage to pull each other’s quidditch robes completely off and there’s something about how the tinted light from the windows hits Draco’s pale white, naked skin and that makes Harry’s breath hitch. Draco immediately moves forward ro embrace him, but without thinking about it, Harry steps back from him just so he can keep looking at him… the blonde falters and gives him a questioning look, as Harry takes another moment, merely a second really, to drink him in… 

 

But suddenly, it occurs to Harry that Draco might think think is utterly creepy of him, so he quickly kills the distance between them again and leans in for another kiss. However, even as the other boy wraps his arms around him and pulls him flush against his own body, he jerks his head back just enough to avoid the kiss.

 

”Okay?” he murmurs. 

 

Harry nods hurriedly and leans in again. This time, Draco doesn’t resist. 

 

They melt together and make out for what feels like hours, yet no time at all at the same time and Harry could easily stay in the embrace indefinitely, if it wasn’t for the cool breeze from the slightly uneven window panes and the goosebumps on every patch of his skin that doesn’t touch Draco’s. The other boy must have felt him shiver, because his caresses turn from slow and sensual to more of a brisk rubbing and then he breaks the kiss again and steps away. Harry shivers in earnest then.

 

”Sorry”, Draco mutters as he moves swiftly over to bath tub’s many taps and starts turning them. ”Won’t take a sec, promise…”

 

”Sure”, Harry mumbles, hugging himself. 

 

He feels slightly exposed standing on his own suddenly, naked as the day he was born and much colder than any boy would want to be in a situation he hopes will turn sexual… 

 

”Get in — it’s nice and hot”, Draco says, turning another couple of taps. 

 

Harry is vaguely curious to see the different colours of the steaming water that rushes out of them and one producing shimmering bubbles that sail down and cover the surface of the water in the tub. 

 

”What, erm, about you…” he says, shuffing over to the edge of the small pool and crouching down.

 

”Yeah, I’ll be right there… what do you prefer, lavender or cocon—?” 

 

”Coconut”, Harry says immediately without even thinking and slides into the water.

 

He turns to look up at Draco and catches the blonde’s knowing smirk and feels his cheeks burn, but he thinks he might get away with it as the water that is now level with his waist is quite hot and the rest of his body is beginning to flush as well. 

 

When the intricately detailed images of stained glass in the windows around him are suddenly covered by a light mist, Harry remembers his glasses and quickly snatches them off his face and folds them together and puts them down on the edge of the tub. When he turns back around, the windows have all blurred together into an abstract mosaic of colours instead.

 

He can hear Draco turn one last tap and turns his head to see the blonde’s blurred form come sauntering towards him. Harry squints and the other boy’s outline becomes slightly more defined as he gracefully slides into the pool and moves through the frothy water until he’s standing in front of Harry, just as the scent of coconut begins to fill the air around them. The smell is such as powerful association for Harry — basically as soon as it registers with him, his brain and body shout _Draco —_ that fluttery currents of charged _wantwantwant_ run up and down his veins. 

 

”That’s warmed you up…” Draco murmurs with a teasing smirk as he wades up close to him.

 

”Ha ha…” Harry croaks and blushes furiously again as he swallows thickly, mouth suddenly gone dry. 

 

This up-close, he can make out Draco’s features despite not wearing his glasses, even if they’re slightly blurred, and he can tell when the blonde’s smirk widens into an actual smile. That’s the only warning Harry gets before the other boy kills the distance between them and gently rocks their hips together, allowing Harry to feel just how hot he himself also is. 

 

It shouldn’t be such a shock to his system to feel the hard length of his boyfriend’s cock brush against his own, after all it’s not like he’s never felt it before (by this point, Harry has got every inch of the other boy’s naked body more or less memorised), but it is and it sends a jolt throughout his body. 

 

Gingerly, he places his hands on top of the other boy’s collarbones, fingers twitching involuntarily as sparks fly through them. He feels like every inch of him that touches Draco on fire and his heart is beating a tattoo in his chest. 

 

It doesn’t make any sense. They’ve done much more intimate stuff together than this before, but Harry has never felt quite like this before. The sensation is almost overwhelming and as scary as it is exciting. He almost wants Draco to say _yes_ when he asks him if he’ll have to get out and turn all of the taps off again — _almost —_ just so he can catch his breath and get his heart rate back to normal, if only for a few seconds. 

 

However, Draco doesn’t say anything. But Harry catches his headshake in his peripheral. In the next moment, all the taps turn off by themselves. Harry jerks his head up and gives Draco a startled look.

 

” _I_ didn’t do it”, the blonde says and Harry can hear the amusement in his voice.”They’re spelled to turn off when the tub is full… Speaking of which…” 

 

Draco takes a step back from Harry again, until they’re no longer touching. 

 

”Let’s get you cleaned up…”

 

”What?” Harry half-chuckles nervously. 

 

Squinting up at Draco’s face, Harry can make out the smirk on the other boy’s face and then follows the movement of his arms as he scoops up some bubbles from the water around them. 

 

Draco begins to lather up his arms and shoulders slowly and Harry unconsciously sways a little closer to him, creating tiny waves between their bodies. 

 

Finally, the slender hands settles on top of Harry’s shoulders and stills. Harry looks up into the other boy’s face again, squinting slightly to better make out his features. The smirk is gone now and the grey of Draco’s eyes is almost completely gone too, replaced with dark _want_ and Harry’s heart jolts. 

 

”Can you see?” Draco murmurs quietly. ”Without your glasses? Can you see me?”

 

”Y-yeah… Kind of…” Harry says, embarassingly out of breath. 

 

Draco then mumbles something else that sounds like _like it_ , but Harry can’t be sure because he said it so quietly. 

 

”Wh-what?”

 

Harry counts three pounding heartbeats when Draco says nothing, but feels his fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders. The water laps at Harry’s body when Draco shifts slightly. 

 

”Do you… _Like_ … What you see—?”

 

” _Fuck_ yea—” Harry starts to speak, but his vehement reply is quickly muffled when the other boy ducks down and captures his lips in a searing kiss and it immediately turns heated. 

 

Draco wraps his arms around Harry and pulls him flush against his own body, his hands roaming eagerly all over his back and then dipping into the water and cupping his buttocks. Harry’s hips jerk forward of their own accord and he gasps into the kiss as his impossibly hard cock rubs up against Draco’s thigh. 

 

The blonde growls softly and bites down on his lower lip, then swiftly soothes the bite again with a teasing lick that rips an involuntary moan from Harry’s throat. The slender fingers digging into the soft flesh of his buttocks begin to knead them and then Harry feels a couple of them slipping into the crack between them and rubbing gently against the sensitive skin there. Harry’s stomach flips over and his heart begins to pound in earnest. 

 

 _Is this it?_ he thinks frantically. _Does Draco want us to… to…_

 

_Am I ready for that?_

 

_I don’t think I —_

 

_I don’t — I don’t know_

 

_I don’t know what to do — I_

 

_I —_

 

Draco’s trails feathery kisses along his jawbone and down the side of his throat. Harry can still feel the pad of one finger against his hole — not pressing against it, just rubbing it carefully — the sensation is unbelievable, he can’t really wrap his head around it, it’s subtle like a kiss and intense like lightening all at once. 

 

Draco sneaks his other hand in between their bodies and wraps his fingers around both of their cocks, squeezing them at the same time in an almost painful grip, and when Harry’s orgasm rips through him it’s as sudden as it is ruthless. The shockwaves of pleasure that ripple through him are so intense they almost hurt. He clutches Draco’s shoulders in a bruishing grip and sags against him, his whole body shaking and he’s vaguely aware of Draco thrusting his face into the crook of his neck and breathing harschly, his erratic heartbeat jostling Harry’s chest as if trying to pick a fight with his own heart. 

 

Harry is still blinking the stars from his eyes when Draco fumbles with his hands and guides them away from his own shoulders and around his body, down his back to his bottom. Instinctively Harry grabs his buttocks firmly and grinds their hips together. 

 

He feels Draco’s hard cock slide against his stomach twice, before the other boy goes rigid against him and begins to tremble from the shocks of his own orgasm. Without really thinking about it, Harry stands up on tip-toe and bites down hard on the soft flesh in the crook of Draco’s neck. 

 

The blonde spasms against him, a muffled curse escaping through his clenched teeth before he grabs Harry’s face hard and thrusts their lips together in a teeth-clashing, hungry kiss. 

 

A girly giggle echoes around them suddenly and they both freeze. 

 

Draco breaks the kiss abruptly again and wrenches his head back from Harry’s. Blinking his eyes open, Harry stares up Draco in horror. They both turn their heads towards the door… But it’s still closed. 

 

”Oh-oh… naughty, naughty…” a high-pitched girly voice giggles behind them. 

 

They spring apart and whirl around. Harry squints his eyes out into the room, but can’t see anyone standing there. Draco swears silently next to him. 

 

”What are you playing at?” he demands then. ”Get out of here!”

 

”Who—?” Harry starts. 

 

”Well, there’s no need to _shout_ at me…” the girl’s voice cuts him off, the giggles now replaced with a whiny tremour. 

 

 _Ah,_ Harry thinks. _Moaning Myrtle._

 

”Myrtle”, he says. ”Can you give us some privacy, please?”

 

”Why?” Myrtle demands. ”Why should I do anything you want, when _you’re_ rude to _me!_ ”

 

A miserable hiccough is the only warning they get before the ghost begins to sob dramatically. Harry sighs. He reaches out and gives Draco’s wrist a gentle squeeze. 

 

”Come on…” he murmurs. 

 

Myrtle dives into tub with an ear-splitting wail, just as they heave themselves up from it and they quickly cover themselves up with their quidditch robes before hurrying out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut quickly to cut off the horrible sound. 

 

”Merlin”, Draco mutters. ”Could she have worse timing?”

 

”Well, actually, yeah”, Harry says wryly. 

 

He puts his glasses back on just in time to catch the blonde’s twitching smirk, before he leans in to steal a quick kiss. 

 

”Come on, let’s go celebrate with the others…” he says, as he leans away from Harry again. 

 

When they reach the Common Room, the party is in full swing and Seamus is literally swinging from one of the chandeliers. Their other friends and most of their other housemates are cheering him on idly, while Gamp and Accrington, as Head Boy and Girl, try to set some kind of example and half-heartedly tries to talk him down.

 

When some of the Slytherins spot Harry and Draco in the doorway, they forget about the drunk Irish boy and swarm around them with renewed cheers. 

 

”Where have you been?” Pansy demands as she shoulders her way through the small crowd and drapes herself over the both of them, wrinkling her nose at Harry’s muddy robes. ”And why haven’t you changed?”

 

”We got… sidetracked”, Draco says with a smirk. 

 

Pansy rolls her eyes and lets go of them again. 

 

”Well, hurry up and get changed, before the firewhiskey runs out!”

 

They celebrate through most of the night and the combination of the firewhiskey Seamus has once again managed to smuggle into the castle and Pansy’s and Draco’s newfound passion for songwriting, it turns into quite the loud affair. Harry expects Professor Snape to storm in and break up the party at any moment, but he never does. 

 

Finally, around three o’clock in the morning, when their Head of House has yet to appear to give Harry an excuse to go to bed, he decides to hell with it and succumbs to his inner voice of reason, voiced by Remus, and withdraws to the dorms. 

 

He curls up in bed and lies awake for a while, listening to the muffled noises of the party while thinking about what happened between him and Draco in the Prefect’s Bathroom. When he finally drifts off into sleep, it’s with a small smile on his lips. 

 

 

*

 

It’s a much more subdued group of Slytherins that trudge up to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning and Professor Snape’s sharp glare from the staff table is the only thing keeping them all from collapsing into their porridge bowls. As it is, the students try their hardest to keep their backs and faces straight, in some semblance of sobriety. 

 

Harry is sure Professor Snape isn’t buying it, but at least they’re not giving him an outright excuse to march down the aisle and dole out detentions to each and every one of them. Which is something, Harry figures. With his stomach churning and head pounding, the last thing he needs is to be scrubbing cauldrons all night…

 

”Oh no…” Draco moans, slumping over in his seat and cradling his head. 

 

”Sit up straight”, Pansy hisses at him from across the table, while Harry whispers, ”Snape’s watching!”

 

”I don’t care”, the blonde mutters. ”I hate my life.”

 

”That’s a little melodramatic”, Pansy huffs with an eye-roll. 

 

”Oh yeah?” Draco says, shooting the girl a half-hearted glare from between his fingers. ”Look behind you…”

 

Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Daphne all frown and turn around in their seats, while Harry straightens up even more and follows their line of sight, but he can’t see anything out of the ordinary. The Gryffindors are looking a bit glum, but that’s to be expected after yesterday’s loss —

 

”Staff table”, Draco grunts. 

 

And that’s when Harry sees him. _Hagrid._

 

There’s a collective gasp between the Slytherins and Pansy swivels back around in her seat and leans forward, hissing furiously under her breath, ”They can’t be _serious_! They _re-hired_ him? That’s outrageous!”

 

”Look at his face…” Blaise whispers, also turning back towards the table. ”I mean, _look at it!_ ”

 

Harry glances back over at the half-giant and winces. Not only are both his eyes black and swollen, but the rest of his face seems to be covered in cuts and bruises as well. 

 

”Rather not, thanks”, Daphne mumbles, voicing Harry’s own sentiments. 

 

”I feel sick…” Draco mutters next to him. 

 

”What do you think happened to him?” Harry murmurs, feeling a mixture of unease and intrigue as a myriad of possibilities flit through his mind. 

 

”Don’t _want_ to think about it”, Blaise says immediately. 

 

”So sick…” Draco groans. 

 

”Seamus”, Harry whispers and nudges the boy next to him. ”Hagrid’s back!”

 

”Gnh…”

 

”Don’t bother”, Blaise says. ”He’s not awake yet…”

 

It’s with trepidation that the Slytherins make their way down the frosty slope towards Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors later that afternoon and when they catch up to the lions, it immediately becomes clear that the Slytherins aren’t the only ones feeling apprehensive. Even Granger looks wary and she’d been happy to see Hagrid in the Great Hall earlier, Harry remembers. Ron had looked happy too, and Fred and George had gone so far as to run up to him and shake his hand. Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t get how anyone could be happy to have the half-giant back as a teacher. 

 

 _Well,_ he concedes. If anyone other than Hagrid would enjoy life-threatening lessons, it _would_ be Fred and George Weasley…

 

But anyone else — _in their right mind_ — would be decidedly unhappy to have the half-giant back, since his bipolar lesson plans either genuinely puts their lives at risk or, alternatively, risks boring them to death. Whereas Professor Grubbly-Plank tends to veer away from both poles and stay in the middle of the spectrum, coming up with interesting yet simultaneously safe lessons for them. 

 

Why Dumbledore would ever go for Hagrid instead of her, Harry can’t imagine… _But the lack of a ’right mind’ probably has something to do with it…_

 

Hagrid is waiting for them at the edge of the Dark Forest with half a dead cow draped over his shoulder. Up close, his face look even worse than it had done earlier that morning. What skin that can be seen between the bushy beard and the unruly mane of hair are a patchwork of nasty green and yellow bruises and both eyes are swollen and black. A few cuts even seem to be fresh, still bleeding freely into the man’s beard. 

 

”We’re workin’ in here today!” Hagrid calls, looking perversely happy for someone who’s got their whole face magled, Harry thinks. 

 

Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe he gets off on being bashed around by monsters —

 

”Bit more sheltered, and anyway, they prefer the dark!”

 

”What prefers the dark?” Draco says sharply, his hand flying out to clamp down on Harry’s forearm. ”What did he say prefers the dark — did you hear?”

 

Harry shakes his head grimly and fights the urge to grab the other boy’s hand in a comforting grip.

 

”Ready?” Hagrid says excitedly, looking around at them all as if expecting cheers. ”I’ve bin savin’ a trip inter the Forest for yer fifth year, see… Thought we’d go an’ see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we’re studyin’ today is pretty rare, I reckon I’m probably the on’y person in Britain who’s managed ter train ’em —”

 

”And you’re sure they’re trained, are you?” Draco says drily, his voice betraying nothing of the fear that the bruising grip on Harry’s arm is an effect of. ”Only it wouldn’t be the first time you’d brought wild stuff to class, would it?”

 

Harry and the other Slytherins exchange grim looks, a few of the others murmuring in agreement. Harry catches Pansy leaning in to whisper something to Daphne, who nods furiously. 

 

”Course they’re trained”, Hagrid says gruffly, glaring at Draco. 

 

”So what happened to your face, then?” Draco demands. 

 

”Mind yer own business!” Hagrid snaps angrily. ”Now, if yeh’ve finished askin’ stupid questions, follow me!”

 

Without another word, the half-giant turns his back to them and begins to stride into the Forest. The class stays at the edge, exchanging hesitant looks. 

 

”We could refuse…” Draco mumbles, frowning uncertainly at the place where Hagrid had disappeared between the trees. 

 

They watch glumly as Granger takes a deep breath and begins to walk into the Forest as well, immediately followed by Ron and the other Gryffindors.

 

”I can’t get a zero”, Harry says. ”My daddy will kill me…”

 

”Unless Professor Snape kills us all first…” Blaise sighs.

 

That seems to be their collective deciding factor, because they begin to move as one, trudging through the trees, inching closer and closer to each other the further into the Forest they get, in some subconscious search for comfort in the proximity to one another. 

 

They walk for about ten minutes before they spot the Gryffindors ahead of them. The trees grow so closely together this deep into the Forest that no sunlight manages to break through their brances, which leaves the Forest nearly dark. 

 

Draco inches even closer to Harry and clucthes his arm with both hands. When they reach the place where Hagrid has stopped to put the dead cow down on the ground and the Gryffindors have gathered around him, Draco hides slightly behind Harry’s shoulder. 

 

”Now, they’ll be attracted by the smell o’ the meat, but I’m going ter give ’em a call anyway, ’cause they’ll like ter know it’s me…” Hagrid tells the class. 

 

He then turns around and belts out an oddly high-pitched shriek that makes the hairs in the back of Harry’s neck stand and he finds himself holding his breath and searching the darkness with frantic eyes while he waits for something to happen… Hagrid gives the shrieking cry again and Harry jumps slightly. Then he hears it… _a snapped twig_ … something _moving_ in the darkness… Draco is now cowering completely behind his back and clutching the back of his robes desperately with both his hands.

 

Then Harry _sees_ it… 

 

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes swimming out of the dark space between two trees and a moment later, the sleek black, skeletal head and body of a winged creature… The same dragonlike horse creatures that were pulling the carriages, Harry realises. _What had dad called them again? Teasrars? Theltasts?_

 

”What’s he doing?” Draco whispers in his ear. ”Why is he just standing there? Why doesn’t he call it again?”

 

”Can’t you see it?” Harry says in surprise, before he remembers what Blaise had said about the creatures and why they were considered death omens — only people who have seen death can actually see them! 

 

Glancing around curiously, Harry can tell that most people are still scanning the darkness warily and only two other people — one of whom is Theo, much to Harry’s surprise — are looking directly at the creature, which has now begun to tear the flesh off the dead cow with its sharp fangs, causing Theo to grimace in disgust from his vantage point behind Goyle. The other person who appears to be able to see it is Longbottom and he is staring transfixed at the creature’s black tail, swishing from side to side. 

 

”See what?” Draco whispers, his voice trembling with fright.

 

”It’s… Those things…” Harry mumbles distractedly, catching Theo’s eye and giving the other boy a wry smile. 

 

”Oh, an’ here comes another one!” Hagrid says happily. 

 

”What?” Draco hisses hysterically. ”What _is_ it?”

 

”It’s okay”, Harry murmurs quickly, turning to to look at the other boy over his own shoulder but being careful not to dislodge the boy’s hands from the back of his robes, since it seems to give him comfort to hold onto them. ”It’s nothing dangerous. It’s those things from the carriages, remember I said—?”

 

”Now… Put yer hands up, who can see ’em?” Hagrid asks. 

 

Harry glances back at the half-giant and the two winged creatures next to him. He hesitantly holds his hand up and in his peripheral, he can see Theo and Longbottom do the same. 

 

”Yeah…” Hagrid nods to him. ”Yeah, I knew yeh’d be able ter, Harry… An’ you too, Neville, eh? An’ —”

 

”Excuse me”, Draco says, still behind Harry’s back but pulling himself up to his full height so that he can glare at Hagrid over Harry’s shoulder. ”What exactly are we supposed to be seeing?”

 

Hagrid simply points to the cow carcass on the ground. After a second, several people jump back with a gasp and one of the Gryffindor girls — Harry thinks her name is Patil — lets out a terrified squeal and hides behind the nearest tree.

 

”What’s doing it?” she says in a terrified voice. ”What’s eating it?”

 

Oh, it must look very weird indeed, Harry realises. Seeing only strips of meat being pulled from the bones and then disappearing into thin air. 

 

”Thestrals”, Hagrid says proudly. 

 

Harry’s friends’ gazes all dart over to Harry and realisation flicker into their faces, as they probably also remember that first day of school when Harry told them he’d just seen a thestral outside. 

 

”But Hagrid”, the Patil girl exclaims from her hiding place behind the tree. ”They’re supposed to be really unlucky! Professor Trelawny once told me that they bring all sorts of horrible misfortune to people who can see them—!”

 

”No, no, no”, Hagrid says, shaking his massive head. ”Tha’s jus’ superstition! They aren’ unlucky, they’re dead clever an’ useful! Hogwarts has got a whole herd of ’em in here ’an they pull the school carriages at the start an’ end of the year — an’ if Dumbledore’s takin’ a long journey an’ don’ want ter Apparate — Oh, here’s another couple!”

 

Harry turns slightly to face Draco and gives him a reassuring smile. The blonde looks unnaturally pale in the gloom and his eyes are still filled with unease, but he doesn’t look terrified anymore. 

 

”Told you”, Harry whispers. 

 

”Righ’, now, who can tell me why some o’ yeh can see ’em and some can’t?”

 

Several of the Slytherins raise their hands and even Harry starts to tentaively raise his, but Hagrid turns to Granger with a beaming smile and tells her, ”Go on then!”

 

”The only people who can see thestrals are people who have seen death”, the Gryffindor girl says importantly. 

 

”Tha’s exactly right. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, thestrals —”

 

” _Hem, hem…_ ”

 

Harry spins around and sees Umbridge totter into sight from between the trees behind him, clipboard at the ready and he is immediately filled with the, by now familiar, all encompassing loathing for the woman. 

 

Hagrid doesn’t seem to have seen her yet, Harry notices. In fact, the half-giant is looking at the nearest thestral with a look of mild worry on his face, as if the woman’s ridiculous cough had come from one of the winged creatures. 

 

It’s not until she coughs again that he manages to locate the direction of the sound and spots her. He straightens up again and gives her a half wave. 

 

”You recieved the _note —_ I sent — to your _cabin_ — this morning?” Umbridge asks in an unusually loud and slow voice, enunciating extra carefully as if she was talking to a toddler or a deaf person. ”Telling you — that I — would be — _inspecting_ — your _lesson_?”

 

”Oh, yeah! Glad yeh found the place all righ’!” Hagrid says, then gestures towards the thestrals. ”Well, as yeh can see — or, I dunno, _can_ you? — we’re doing thestrals today—!”

 

”I’m sorry?” Umbridge interrupts loudly and cups her ear with a frown. ”What — did — you — say?”

 

”Er…” Hagrid blinks in confusion and glances around at the class uncertainly, then raises his voice and speaks a little more carefully, as if he thinks Umbridge is hard of hearing. ”THESTRALS! Big — er — _winged horses,_ yeh know!”

 

To illustrate the point further, he flaps his arms and looks down at the woman hopefully. Umbridge raises her eyebrows, but gives him an exaggerated nod before she quickly bends over her clipboard and begins to scribble furiously, muttering under her breath as she does, ” _Has… to… resort… to… crude… sign… language…_ ”

 

Draco lets out a soft, incredulous chuckle next to Harry. 

 

”Er, well, anyway…” Hagrid mutters, his gaze flickering uncertainly between Umbridge and the class. ”Erm… What was I sayin’?”

 

” _Appears… to… have… poor… short… term… memory…_ ”

 

More students begin to titter. Harry himself is torn though, as much as he rather have Professor Grubbly-Plank back as their Care of Magical Creatures teacher, his hatred for Umbridge is significantly stronger than his dislike for Hagrid’s idea of teaching, and besides he does feel a bit bad for Hagrid. After all, even though he might be a giant oaf, he does mean well and Umbridge is clearly prejudiced against him because he’s part giant — or, as she would say, _only part human…_ The fact that Harry knows she catalogues his daddy in that category as well, only makes him more reluctant to fuel her fire by joining in with the sniggers around him. 

 

”Oh yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we’ve got a herd”, Hagrid says with feigned enthusiasm, shifting his feet and glancing over at Umbridge’s clipboard every third second. ”Yeah, so, we started out with one male and five females —”

 

”Are — you — aware”, Umbridge interrupts him again in her overly loud and slow voice. ”That — the _Ministry_ — classifies — _thestrals_ — as _dangerous_?”

 

”Thestrals aren’ dangerous!” Hagrid exclaims with a chuckle. ”All righ’, they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy ’em —”

 

Draco inches closer to Harry’s back again and his chuckle seems to stick in his throat. 

 

 _”Shows… signs… of.. pleasure… at… idea… of… violence…_ ” Umbridge mutters as she scribbles on her clipboard. 

 

”No — come on!” Hagrid protests feebly, his bruised forehead glistening with sweat now. ”I mean, a dog’ll bite yeh if yeh bait it, won’ it? — but thestrals ’ave jus’ got a bad reputation ’cause of the death thing!”

 

Umbridge ignores his comment and continues talking to him with her unnecessarily loud and slow voice and even starts using some sign language of her own to illustrate her points. Harry can only stare in disbelief, while Pansy and Daphne dissolve into peels of giggles next to him and Draco muffles his own snickers against his shoulder, all of them earning cold, furious glares from Granger.

 

 _Wonder if she finds anything funny?_ Harry thinks, trying to remember if he’s ever seen the girl laugh before.

 

The whole situation is so absurd, as the two professors descend into a conversation that is more sign-language than actual spoken words, that Harry almost joins in with his friends’ laughter. After all, it _does_ look funny. But knowing that Umbridge is treating Hagrid like this because of her own predjudice towards so-called half-humans helps him keep a straight face. After all, it certainly wouldn’t be funny if she were to talk to his daddy like this.

 

Umbridge tells Hagrid to continue with his lesson while she talks to some of the students and he tries his hardest to get his enthusiasm back, but she’s clearly managed to break him out of his stride and he begins to falter and stammer. 

 

Umbridge approaches Pansy and asks her in a loud, carrying voice if she can understand Hagrid when he talks.

 

Clearly swept up in the hilarity of the situation and aiming to get Daphne to laugh loud enough to snort like a pig (one of the girl’s favourite passtimes, Harry has learned as he’s begun to spend more time with the girls), Pansy shakes her head and chokes out, ”Not really… because… well… it sounds like… _grunting_ … a lot of the time!”

 

Umbridge nods eagerly and scribbles something down on her clipboard. 

 

”Er… yeah… good stuff abou’ thestrals”, Hagrid says loudly, obviously trying to pretend he didn’t hear Pansy’s answer although he clearly did, judging by the blush in his brusied cheeks and the panicked look in his eyes. ”Well, once they’re tamed, like this lot, yeh’ll never be lost again, I’ll tell… ’mazing sense of direction they’ve got… us’ tell ’em where yeh want ter go and —”

 

”Assuming they can understand you, of course”, Draco quips, causing both Pansy and Daphne to dissolve into renewed giggles. 

 

Umbridge gives them an indulgent smile, which is the only thing helping Harry to keep a straight face. 

 

”You can see the thestrals, Longbottom, is that right?” she asks, sidling up to the Gryffindor who nods timidly. ”Who did you see die, then?”

 

”My… my granddad”, the boy says quietly. 

 

”And what do you think of them?” she adds, gesturing in the general direction of the cow carcass with her chubby hand. 

 

”They’re… er… okay, I-I s-suppose…”

 

” _Students… are… too… intimidated… to… admit… they… are… frightened…_ ” Umbridge mutters as she scribbles. 

 

Harry frowns. 

 

”Oh, come on, lighten up…” Draco huffs later as they’re trudging through the snow back up to the castle. ” _I_ hope he fails his inspection, because _I_ don’t want him as a teacher. And don’t tell me you do, because I know you don’t!”

 

”No, I don’t”, Harry relents. ”But still. She didn’t have to…. _humiliate_ him, did she?”

 

Draco shrugs. 

 

”It was funny though”, Pansy says happily behind them. ”Granger crying was just the icing on the cake!”

 

”Crying?” Harry says surprised.

 

”Well, as good as…” Pansy says flippantly. ”She definitely had tears in her eyes. I thought she was going to snap, she was _so angry_ … That would have been even more brilliant, if she had. Just imagine. Granger snapping at a teacher and getting a detention for the first time in her life!”

 

Harry can’t deny that that would have been brilliant, but he still can’t shake his unease at having witnessed the way Umbridge treated Hagrid, especially knowing his dads’ reactions would have been quite the opposite to his friends’, if anything, it would have been similar to Granger’s… 

 

He still feels uneasy about it later that evening, but tries not to show it after Draco has rolled his eyes at him for the third time and knocked their shoulders together quite hard, as if hoping to physically jostle him out of his funk… Finally, as they’re all sitting in the Common Room working on their homework essays for McGonagall, the blonde snatches Harry’s from him and leans in to murmur in his ear, ”Come on, let’s go to bed, I’m sure I can think of a way to cheer you up again…”

 

Harry blinks startled and swallows. Just sitting this closely to Draco is enough to make his stomach flutter, especially when the blonde leans in to whisper in his ear like this and Harry can feel his warm breath against his skin, not to mention the whiff of coconut… But at the same time, he’s still a bit rattled by their latest sexual escapade, sure that the next time they disrobe and get physical with each other, Draco will want to take things to the next level… And as much as the thought of that arouses Harry, it also scares the shit out of him and he’s almost sure he isn’t ready for it quite yet — he just doesn’t know how to tell Draco that… What if he feels rejected and hurt? What if he feels frustrated? What if he gets angry?

 

”Or not…” Draco mutters, leaning back again with a frown. ”Harry?”

 

”What?” Harry says lightly, schooling his face into a nonchalant mask. 

 

”What’s wrong?”

 

”Nothing”, Harry lies smoothly. ”I’m just tired. I think I’m just going to go to bed — and sleep — I’m really tired.”

 

”Yeah, you said that”, Draco says, his frown deepening. 

 

”Right. Well, I should… Yeah…” he gathers up his homework and pushes to his feet. ”Good night, then…”

 

” _What’s up with him?_ ” he hears Pansy whisper behind him as he hurries across the Common Room towards the boys’ dorm. 

 

” _Dunno…_ ” Draco mutters dully. 

 

His weekly dose of Dreamless Sleep is waiting for him on top of the trunk at the end of the four-poster bed and Harry eyes it thoughtfully as he changes into his pyjamas, but in the end he crawls into bed without taking it. He rarely has nightmares anymore anyway and Harry wants Draco to be able to rouse him in case he wants to talk when he comes to bed… 

 

He dreams he’s floating on his back in the large bath tub in the Prefect’s bathroom, the scent of coconut enveloping him as his body grows lighter and his eyelids heavier… The water is pleasantly warm, not too hot and not too cool, but almost exactly body temperature, which makes him feel like he’s not in water at all, but floating in space… 

 

Arms emerge from the water on either side of his body and envelop him in a hug, pulling him backwards into a firm chest — Draco’s chest — and then they’re floating together, as one… 

 

Harry stretches out languidly, craning his neck over the rounded edge of a shoulder and squirming as he feels a familiar length of soft flesh hardening along the crack of his arse… 

 

Teeth graze the sensitive skin of his neck and he hisses… 

 

Then suddenly the chest and arms that envelop his body are gone again, as is the hard cock prodding his arse insistently. _Draco_ is gone. Harry is alone again. But he’s not floating anymore, he’s gliding, slithering… across cool tiles, between metal bars and through cracks… his body is taut and flexible, _powerful_ … he’s on his stomach in a long, dark, empty corridor, sliding along the stone floor effortlessly, glancing around him surreptitiously… 

 

But wait… it’s not empty, he realises. There’s a man at the end of the corridor, sitting on the floor with his back to the door, his head hanging heavily against his chest… is he dead? 

 

Harry sticks his tongue out and tastes the man’s scent on the air; he is not dead, merely sleeping… Oh, how Harry wants to bite the man! 

 

But he mustn’t, he tells himself. He must master the impulse, because he has more important things to do and very little time in which to do them —

 

The man stirs suddenly. His eyes begin to flutter open, then snaps open wide as he spots Harry in front of him. The man’s silver Cloak falls to the floor as he jumps to his feet and reaches for his wand —

 

I’ve no choice, Harry thinks. 

 

Just as the man plucks his wand from his belt and points it at him, Harry rears up from the floor, stretching high into the air. The man’s face pales and he gasps, a hex on the tip of his tongue, but he’s too late — Harry strikes, his sharp fangs sinking into pliant flesh, once, twice, and on the third time a rib snaps between his jaws… A pained scream is wrenched from the man’s throat and he collapses back againstt he door, before slumping to the floor… 

 

Harry watches impassively as the man passes out in a small pool of his own blood. Harry can taste it in his own mouth; warm and coppery, so delicious… His entire being is thrumming with hunger, but he knows he can’t indulge, not here, not now… His master will be most displeased as it is, he can’t afford to get caught too —

 

The building tension in his head spikes, he presses his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing — he feels like his head will explode — 

 

”Harry! HARRY!”

 

He startles awake and sits up in his sweat-damp bed. For a moment he imagines he can still smell and taste blood, but gradually the scent of coconut overpowers the coppery tang. _Draco._

 

”Harry? You’re okay, it was just a nightmare—”

 

”No”, Harry gasps and before he’s even aware of what he’s doing, he’s pushes past the blurry blonde blob perched on the side of his bed and stumbled to his feet. 

 

”Harry—!”

 

”No, no, it was real”, Harry mutters, whirling around, disoriented. ”I was there, I saw it, I did it, I…”

 

The pain in his head intensifies and for a second, black stars explode in his eyes. He whirls back around and clutching his head desperately, he sinks to the floor and retches. 

 

” _Harry…_ ”

 

He feels Draco’s hands on him, his slender fingers trembling but firm as they clutch his shoulders. 

 

”What’s going on?” Blaise sleep-gravelly voice pipes up from the other end of the dorm. 

 

”Harry’s just had a bad drea—” Draco says, but Harry shakes his head firmly and waves a hand in his direction to shut him up. 

 

”It wasn’t a dream!” he exclaims loudly. 

 

”Harry, please”, Draco begs softly. ”You’ll wake everyone u—”

 

”I don’t care! I need to go…”

 

He shoves Draco out of the way and staggers to his feet again. He snatches his glasses blindly from the bedside table and puts them on. As soon as Draco comes into focus and Harry can see the hurt look in his eyes, he feels bad. 

 

But the vision, or whatever it was, is more important, he tells himself.

 

_I need to tell someone, I need to tell Snape, while there’s still time to save him —_

 

_”Harry, you’re scaring me!”_

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry says and stalks over to the door. 

 

” _You need to go with him_ ”, he hears Blaise murmur behind him just before the door closes. 

 


	40. Christmas gifts & Occlumency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Sir, I-I don’t think Harry is well, he woke up from a nightmare and he seemed really confused a-a-and—”  
> ”It wasn’t a dream!” Harry exclaims in frustration. ”It was real — mister Weasley’s been seriously hurt — attacked — by a snake, I’ve just seen it happen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! x

Harry walks quickly across the Common Room and yells the current password at the wall. 

 

 _Does it always take this long to rearrange itself?_ he thinks frantically, shifting restlessly from foot to foot as he wait. 

 

As soon as the doorway is wide enough to squeeze through, he does and runs the rest of the way down the dungeon corridor to Professor Snape’s door and pummels it with his fist. 

 

He can hear running footsteps behind him and knows Draco has followed him, but before he can turn around and tell the other boy to go back to bed, the door swings open and Professor Snape is towering over him with a murderous scowl on his face. Harry swallows hard and steels himself.  

 

”Professor”, he says. ”Sorry to w-wake you—”

 

”Harry? What is the meaning of—?”

 

”Please, professor, there isn’t time! You’ve got to help! Someone’s been hurt, badly—!”

 

The man’s sleep-swollen glare smoothes out immediately and he secures the cord around his dressing gown, before ushering Harry in front of him with grim determination. 

 

”Who? Where?” He asks, already striding towards the Common Room. 

 

”Not here!” Harry exclaims. 

 

Professor Snape stops abruptly and wheels around to glare at him once more. 

 

”I-I c-can explain!” Harry says. 

 

”Sir”, Draco pipes up anxiously next to them. ”I-I don’t think Harry is well, he woke up from a nightmare and he seemed really confused a-a-and—”

 

”It wasn’t a dream!” Harry exclaims in frustration. ”It was real — mister Weasley’s been seriously hurt — attacked — by a snake, I’ve just seen it happen!”

 

”What?” Professor Snape hisses sharply. 

 

”I swear it’s true, Sir”, Harry begs, feeling the prickly of frustrated tears. ”Please believe me! He’s bleeding out — he’ll die, if we don’t do something!”

 

”All right…” Professor Snape murmurs. ”Calm down—”

 

” _I can’t calm down! Don’t you understand — he’s going to die! AND IT WILL HAVE BEEN MY FAULT—!_ ” 

 

Professor Snape lurches forward and before Harry has registered what’s happened, the man has wrapped both arms around him stiffly and is holding him in a loose embrace. Harry hesitates for a split-second, then cautiously leans his forehead against the man’s chest and it’s not until he feels the thudding heartbeat against his own throbbing scar, that he manages to suck in a shuddering breath, that clears his head slightly. 

 

”Let’s go see the Headmaster”, Professor Snape says seriously and releases Harry again. ”Draco, you may as well come too…”

 

Professor Snape sets off towards the spiral staircase with great long strides and Harry and Draco almost have to jog to keep up with him, and despite this the trek to the Griffin statue that guards the entrance to Dumbledore’s office seems to take them forever. But finally they stop in front of the massive gargoyle and Snape snaps, ”Fizzing Whizzbee!”

 

Immediately the Griffin springs to life and steps aside to reveal the revolving spiral staircase and Snape quickly ushers both Harry and Draco in front of him. The three of them travel upwards in the same tense silence that had trailed after them all the way from the dungeons and it’s so complete, so dense, that when Snape grabs the knocker on Dumbledore’s door and bangs it three times, Harry flinches. 

 

The door swings open and Snape gently pushes Harry and Draco over the threshold, before following himself. 

 

Harry’s gaze flickers over the many snoozing portraits lining the walls and then comes to rest on Fawkes, the phoenix, that sits on his perch, sleeping with his head tucked in under one of his massive wings. 

 

”Ah, Severus… and… _oh_ …”

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the bird again and locates the Headmaster sitting slightly hunched down in the straight-backed chair behind the massive oak desk. His head is bowed and he is peering curiously at Professor Snape over the rim of his glasses. 

 

”Headmaster”, Snape greets him swiftly. ”Harry has just had a… a vision…”

 

”I see…” Dumbledore murmurs, gazing down at his own stapled fingers. ”Harry, m’boy, please tell me all about it…”

 

”Well, I… I was asleep in my bed… and I was dreaming, something different, it doesn’t matter… but then the dream changed and…”

 

He trails off, flustered and shifts his feet. He’s aware of how it sounds, there’s no way the Headmaster is going to believe him… _He’s not even looking at me,_ he thinks, feeling a stab of annoyance.

 

”And then what happened?” the old man prompts gently, now gazing up into the ceiling. 

 

Harry purses his lips in annoyance, but at Snape’s sharp look he begins to speak again. 

 

”Well, I saw mister Weasley, sitting on the floor in some place, I don’t know where… and then he… well, he was attacked, by a giant snake —”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes finally snap to Harry’s face and he leans forward into the sphere of light from the candles upon his desk and studies Harry closely, but — Harry can’t help but notice — he still doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

 

”How did you see this?” he asks softly. 

 

”I don’t know!” Harry snaps angrily. ”Inside my head—!”

 

”No, you misunderstand me”, the old man says calmly. ”I mean — can you remember where you were positioned in the dream while you were watching this happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or maybe looking down on the scene from above—?”

 

”No”, Harry mutters, feeling his stomach churn unpleasantly again as he remembers the taste of blood. ”I was the one who — I was the snake, I — I saw it from the snake’s point of view.”

 

”I see…” Dumbledore says in an even softer voice, barely above a whisper. ”And is Arthur seriously injured?”

 

”Yes!” Harry exclaims. 

 

_Why are they all so slow on the uptake? Don’t they realise we’re wasting time? Don’t they know how much a person bleeds when fangs that long and sharp have sunk into their side?_

 

 _And why the hell isn’t Dumbledore looking at me? — Does he_ know? 

 

Harry’s heart begins to hammer harder and harder inside his chest. 

 

_He knows. He knows it was me, that I did it —_

 

Dumbledore pushes to his feet with such sudden speed, it makes both Harry and Draco jump, and he turns swiftly to the portraits of a sallow-faced wizard with dark hair and an elderly witch with light-grey ringlets, hanging side by side near the ceiling.

 

”Everard — and you too, Dilys!”

 

Both portraits, who one moment appeared to be in the deepest of sleeps, immediately snaps their eyes open and stare back at Dumbledore. 

 

”You were listening?”

 

”Naturally”, the witch says, while the wizard nods his head. 

 

”The man has red hair and glasses. You will need to raise the alarm — make sure he is found by the right people!”

 

Both portraits nod, before moving sideways out of their frames. Harry expects to see them reappear in the neighbouring portraits, as usual. But they don’t. 

 

”Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts’s most celebrated Heads”, Dumbledore says, sweeping around his desk to stand next to Fawkes’s perch. ”Their renown is such that both have portraits of themselves hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere…”

 

”But mister Weasley could be anywhere”, Harry says, feeling hopelessness weigh him down while at the back of his mind, a cruel voice whispers, _murderer, murderer, murderer —_

 

”Please sit down, all three of you… Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes”, Dumbledore says, then strokes the phoenix’s head with one gentle finger. 

 

Fawkes stirs awake and raises his head to gaze back at Dumbledore. Harry is struck by how similar their eyes are, somehow — old and wise, and a little sad — and he wonder exactly how old Fawkes is… and how old Dumbledore is, for that matter. 

 

”We will need… a warning”, the man tells the bird quietly. 

 

There is a flash of fire and then Fawkes is gone. Dumbledore springs into action once more, striding over to one of many silvery instruments littered around the office and picks it up. He carries it over to the desk and sits back down in his chair, before tapping the instrument with his wand. It whirrs to life with a tinkling noise and puffs of pale green smoke begin to issue from a small tube at the top. 

 

Professor Snape is watching Dumbledore with sharp eyes, but as if sensing Harry’s gaze on him, he turns to meet it and then, as if realising too late that there is nowhere for Harry and Draco to sit, he conjures up two chairs for them out of thin air. 

 

Harry and Draco exchange an uneasy look, but gingerly sit down without a word. Professor Snape remains standing in between them, watching Professor Dumbledore and his weird silver instrument eagerly once more. 

 

The tiny puffs of smoke have now turned into a steady stream of thick smoke that coils in the air, and suddenly the end of it morphs into a serpent’s head that opens its mouth wide, baring its sharp fangs… 

 

”Naturally, naturally…” Dumbledore murmurs. ”But in essence divided?”

 

Harry frowns. _What kind of a weird question is that? And who is he even talking to?_

 

The smoke snake splits into two smaller snakes that continue to coil and twist in the air. Dumbledore leans back with a slightly satisfied look on his face, then gives the instrument another tap with his wand and it quiets down again and the smoke slowly fades away. 

 

Harry has no idea what is going on and what the weird smoke snakes were meant to symbolise, but he can tell that whatever it is, it’s something serious, because Professor Snape is standing stiff as a board between his and Draco’s chairs and Dumbledore is doing a very good impression of someone who isn’t worried at all, but the lack of a twinkle in his eye gives him away. 

 

Harry always found that twinkle to be annoying, but now he would give anything to catch a glimpse of it, to have Dumbledore pin him with a twinkling look over the rim of his half-moon spectacles in that way of his that makes you feel like you’re missing something and he’s silently making fun of you for it… but now, the old man won’t even look in Harry’s direction. 

 

The tense silence is suddenly interrupted again when the wizard called Everard returns to his portrait and slumps against the back of the chair, wiping the sweat from his balding forehead with the curtain behind him.

 

”What news?” Dumbledore asks. 

 

”Found him”, the portrait pants and collapses into his chair. ”You know, there aren’t any portraits down there to watch from. But I yelled until someone came running. Said I heard something moving downstairs. They weren’t sure whether to believe me, but they went down to check. They carried him up a few minutes later…”

 

”And?” Dumbledore prompts. 

 

”He doesn’t look good”, the portrait says and shakes his head mournfully. ”He was covered in blood and—”

 

”Headmaster”, Professor Snape says suddenly. ”Perhaps I should take the boys back to the dorm?”

 

At that moment, the silver-ringleted witch reappears in the neighbouring portrait, also sweating and panting heavily. 

 

”They’ve taken him to St Mungo’s”, she says importantly, before dissolving in a coughing fit. 

 

”Good”, Dumbledore says. ”Thank you, both—”

 

”He’s in a bad way”, the witch adds grimly. 

 

”Yes, well”, Snape snaps. ”Dumbledore?”

 

The Headmaster’s pale blue eyes flicker between the portraits and Professor Snape. 

 

”We’ll need to send for Minerva”, he says. ”And the Weasley children ought to be woken—”

 

”I will alert Minerva”, Snape says, before adding pointedly. ”After I’ve returned Harry and Draco to the dorm.”

 

Dumbledore seems to hesitate for a second, but finally he gives Snape a small nod. 

 

”But Severus…” he says as soon as the Potions Master clamps a hand down on Harry’s and Draco’s shoulders. ”Remember that thing we discussed?”

 

Harry feels the fingers digging into his shoulder tighten slightly.

 

”Yes”, the Potions Master says shortly. 

 

”I think… tonight’s… events have rather made the decision for us”, Dumbledore continues cryptically. 

 

Harry catches Snape’s quick sideway glance in his direction and bristles. _They’re talking about_ me _! They’re talking about me like I’m not even here and DUMBLEDORE STILL WON’T BLOODY LOOK AT ME!_

 

White hot rage rears inside Harry and for a moment, only a split second really, as pain explodes in his scar once more he feels like the snake in his dream again. He pins Dumbledore with glare and the urge to _strike_ wells up inside of him like bile, like blood, like —

 

The hand on his shoulder shakes him and he blinks. Professor Snape is gazing down at him steadily, his dark eyes unreadable. 

 

”Come on, I’m taking you back to the dorm…”

 

The next morning, Harry and his friends try their hardest to pretend everything’s normal and Seamus and Pansy in particular try to maintain a lighthearted stream of chitchat throughout breakfast, but it’s slightly negated by the obvious lack of redheads over at the Gryffindor table and every time Harry looks up from his bowl of porridge he is reminded of another redhead, spurting blood and screaming in pain…

 

He swallows convulsively, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth. He feels sick. _What is wrong with me?_

 

Part of him wants nothing more than to go home for Christmas and cuddle up with his dads in front of the tree and pretend nothing is wrong at all, but he knows he won’t be able to forget and besides, he needs to tell his dads about the dream and about what he experienced afterwards in Dumbledore’s office, because he needs to know what they think is going on — even if it means revealing to them that he somehow travelled from Hogwarts in his sleep and turned into a snake that attacked, and possibly killed, one of their friends… 

 

 _And nearly attacked another one,_ a small voice in the back of his mind pipes up, before flashing to the moment when he wanted to strike Dumbledore as well… 

 

The thought of his dads recoiling from him in horror is enough to turn Harry’s stomach inside-out, but it can’t be helped. He needs to tell them everything. Because he needs them to help him understand, and to tell him things will be all right. 

 

_Oh please, let things be all right…_

 

But before he gets to go home, there’s one more thing he needs to do… and that is talk to Draco about his father. He’s been putting it off all year, telling himself that it’s better to wait for the other boy to bring it up when he’s ready — but he’s also promised himself that if Draco still hasn’t said anything before the Christmas hols, then he himself will bring it up whether the blonde is ready to talk about it or not. Because, frankly, Harry needs to know if it’s safe for Draco to go back to Malfoy Manor for Christmas. 

 

For all he knows, Lucius might have invited Voldemort himself over to celebrate the holidays… 

 

Harry is momentarily distracted by the absurd mental image of Voldemort dressed up as Father Christmas, handing out presents to a bunch of eagerly awaiting Death Eaters, and snorts to himself. 

 

”What are you laughing at?” Draco says and looks up from his Potions book with a mildly curiously arched eyebrow.

 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Just thinking about… Christmas.”

 

”Christmas”, Draco repeats drily. ”Hilarious…”

 

He returns his focus to the Potions book and flicks the page idly, before letting his slender fingers skim over the page, searching the text for something. When he finds it, he pulls a piece of parchment closer and scribbles something down with his quill. 

 

”Is that the essay on undetectable potions?” Harry asks dully. 

 

Only Professor Snape would set an essay to be handed in on the first day back after the Christmas hols, and only Professor Snape would ever think to set said essay on ’Undetectable Poisons and _How to Detect Them_ ’, Harry thinks wryly. And, he adds to himself with a mix of exasperation and fondness, only Draco would spend the last evening at Hogwarts working on that essay, instead of putting it off to the last minute like any other fifteen-year-old would do…

 

The blonde lets out an affirmative _hm_ that confirms his suspicion, but doesn’t look up from the book again. For a second, Harry feels a stab of guilt at the thought of his own pile of uncompleted homework and considers taking a moment to complete at least one or two of the essays that were set weeks ago. 

 

But then he remembers the talk he needs to have with Draco and decides that that is more important, not to mention urgent. 

 

”Draco…” 

 

”Mmm…”

 

”Put the book down for a sec…”

 

”Why?” Draco mumbles, jotting down another note on the parchment next to him. 

 

Harry waits for him to finish whatever he’s writing and once the quill stops moving, he says, ”I want to talk to you… about something…”

 

Draco frowns slightly, but keeps staring down at his parchment, seemingly skimming over his own notes. 

 

”What?” he asks absent-mindedly.

 

”About… erm… last summer—”

 

The blonde’s head snaps up and his widened eyes flicker between Harry’s own. Harry swallows thickly, then forces a small smile onto his face. The frown on Draco’s face deepens, but some of the tension drains out of his shoulders again, so at least Harry knows he won’t bolt any time soon. 

 

”You know how you said you… erm… you talked to your father last summer? Before you went to France with you mum?”

 

”Yeah?”

 

”Are you… I mean…” Harry falters. 

 

”What?”

 

”Are you… okay?”

 

”Am I okay?” Draco repeats nonplussed. 

 

”Yeah, I mean, to go home for Christmas? I mean, is it… _safe_ … there?”

 

Realisation flickers into Draco’s eyes and the frown smoothes out slightly again. 

 

”Because if you’re not… you know… sure — that it’s safe, I mean — you could come home with me! My dads won’t mind, at all, I’m sure, in fact it would be great — we could decorate the tree together, and help Remus cook, and we could even make a gingerbread house — that’s a bit dorky, I know, but it’s kind of fun too—”

 

Draco reaches out and covers Harry’s hand with his own gently, and Harry immediately stops babbling and snaps his mouth shut. A small, grateful smile flickers onto Draco’s face. 

 

”Thank you”, he says sincerely. ”But I’ll be fine.”

 

”Oh… you’re s-sure?”

 

”Yes, I’m sure”, Draco says firmly. ”And as… lovely, as all of that sounds… I couldn’t leave mother alone on Christmas. I mean, she’ll have father, of course, but… just in case he gets called away, you know.”

 

Draco looks away again and starts rolling up his notes for the Potions essay.

 

”Called away?” Harry repeats carefully, feeling a heavy weight settle in his stomach. 

 

”For work”, Draco says curtly, but he avoids Harry’s eyes as he says it. 

 

”Right”, Harry says. ”Well, consider it an open offer, in case anything happens to change your mind.”

 

Draco keeps his eyes averted, but Harry catches another tiny smile on his face.

 

”Or, you know, if nothing happens but you still change your mind”, Harry adds. 

 

”Yeah…”

 

”I hope you will”, Harry presses. ”Because I’ll miss you.”

 

The smile on Draco’s face widens then and he turns his face towards Harry again. His eyes are like frost on a sunny day and being in their crossfire, Harry feels a little short of breath at the beauty of it all.

 

”It’s only two weeks, dorcus…” 

 

”Yeah, I know, but still…”

 

”I know”, Draco amends softly, scooting over the small space between them on the sofa. ”I’ll miss you too.”

 

”You will?” Harry says, sounding pathetically hopeful even to his own ears, but Draco’s smile only softens further as he nods. 

 

”Maybe when we get back… we can sneak you into the Prefect’s Bathroom again…” he murmurs suggestively, then leans in slowly to brush a feathery kiss against Harry’s jaw. 

 

”Y-y-yeah…” Harry gasps. ”Maybe…”

 

Draco pulls back again with a smirk, then quickly dips his head and captures Harry’s lips in a searing kiss. 

 

 

*

 

Harry’s dads come outside to meet him as usual and he hugs them both, first Sirius and then Remus, and as soon as he’s got his daddy’s strong arms wrapped around him like a vise, Harry eagerly burrows into the man’s chest. Immediately he feels Remus bury his face in his hair and snuffle happily, but when he begins to pull away again, Harry clutches the back of his pyjama top desperately to keep him close and mumbles, ”Not yet…”

 

Remus tightens his arms around him once more, but murmurs ”Let’s just go inside, cub…” 

 

He feels Sirius’s fingers card through the hair at the back of his head, adding that extra bit of comfort and he nods his head with a sigh, and lets go. Sirius fingers disentangle from his hair again and the hand settles heavy and comforting on the back of his neck. Harry welcomes the weight there, it anchors him and he allows himself to be steered inside the cottage and then into the living room, while Remus makes a detour to the kitchen. 

 

Sirius settles on the sofa and pulls Harry down next to him, curling a strong arm around his shoulders and hugging him into his side while they wait for Remus to join them. When he does, he’s got three steaming mugs of cocoa levitating in front of him and he guides two of them over to Harry and Sirius, before grabbing his own and squeezing down on Harry’s other side on the sofa.

 

Book-ended by the two older men in their cuddliest pyjamas and cradling the sweet-smelling drink, Harry takes a deep breath and begins to speak. 

 

Neither of his dads say anything throughout the story, but Sirius’s arm tightens around him and Remus nestles his fingers in his hair, petting him comfortingly when he starts to describe the attack itself and the unsettling experience of being the snake, of striking, of feeling warm blood flood his mouth… 

 

”I was the snake”, he repeats, then falls silent finally, unsure of how to proceed. 

 

”It sounds awful”, Remus says softly.

 

”No — I mean yes, but — you don’t understand”, Harry shakes his head in frustration, dislodging the man’s fingers in the process. ” _I_ was the snake. _I_ was the one who attacked him. And it wasn’t a dream. They found him. He really was attacked—!”

 

”I know, cub…” Remus says soothingly. ”We heard.”

 

”He’s going to be alright, though”, Sirius cuts in. ”They found him just in time and took him to St Mungo’s—”

 

”But…”

 

”—You may have saved his life.” 

 

”But… I…”

 

”What’s wrong, sweetie?” Remus asks and squeezes the back of his neck gently.

 

”I… I think I’m going mad, or something… in Dumbledore’s office, after, I… for a second, I thought I was a snake and I… I wanted to attack him too!”

 

Neither of the men say anything for a second and Harry feels the silence like heavy, suffocating blanket. He imagines he can hear his own heartbeat, steady and slow, but also hard and loud… _freak-freak-freak_ …

 

”What if… what if I… what if it was really me”, Harry chokes out, before he quickly cuts himself off and bites his lip to stop any sobs or whimpers from escaping him. 

 

When Sirius gently pulls his arm away from him, Harry’s heart begins to pound in earnest… _freak-murderer-freak-killer-freak-monster-FREAK—_

 

 _”_ Sweetie…” Remus murmurs and gathers him into his arms and hugs him tightly. 

 

”It must have been the aftermath of the dream, or whatever it was”, Sirius says reasonably. ”I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about—”

 

”No”, Harry chokes out and shakes his head wildly, pulling away from his daddy’s embrace slightly in his anxiousness to make his dads understand. ”No, it wasn’t that — it was like — like something rose up inside me — _like there’s a snake inside me!_ ”

 

”Shhh…” Remus hushes him softly and pulls him back into the hug, rubbing his shaking shoulders gently. ”It’s all right… you’re just in shock, you’ll be fine…”

 

”There’s no snake inside you, Harry”, Sirius says quietly after a moment and kneads one of his shoulders.

 

”But—”

 

”I’m sure it felt like it”, Sirius hurries to add. ”But that’s just a _feeling_ , it isn’t _real_ …”

 

”Your dad is right, cub”, Remus murmurs. ”There’s no way you could have attacked Arthur, when you were in your bed at Hogwarts, over five hundred miles away. Right?”

 

”But… but in Dumbledore’s office…”

 

”Like Sirius said, it was probably a combination of shock and some lingering effects of the dream… that’s all…”

 

”It felt so real though…” Harry mumbles stubbornly. 

 

But even as he says it, his dads’s words settle into his mind and he realises that they’re not just trying to make him feel better, it’s actually the only thing that makes sense. 

 

”I know, pup”, Remus says. ”And the feeling might have been real, but you’re not a snake Harry… nor do you have a snake inside you… now have some chocolate and I’m sure you’ll feel better!”

 

As much as Harry and Sirius sometimes make fun of Remus and his overconfidence in the magical powers of chocolate, on this particular occasion he’s right. A few sips of chocolate, with his dads’ arms around him and Christmas carols playing on the Wireless, Harry actually begins to feel better. 

 

So much better in fact that he really doesn’t want to spoil it and ruin the festive spirit by invoking his dads’ wrath by finally telling them about his detentions with Umbridge, even though a small voice at the back of his mind (sounding suspiciously similar to one Professor Snape), keeps reminding him that the longer he puts off telling them, the worse he’ll feel when he finally does. 

 

 _I’ll tell them after Christmas,_ he thinks and pulls his sleeves over his hands again. 

 

*

 

He wakes up on the morning of the 25th to find a rather large pile of Christmas presents at the foot of his bed and eagerly sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, before reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. He immediately spots four presents with his daddy’s handwriting on the labels and, rifling through the others quickly, he makes a mental inventory of the different handwritings on their labels as well, then lines up the the ones from his friends with the four from his dads, neatly along the footboard, before reaching for the two remaining ones. 

 

He checks the handwriting on each of the labels again, but he still can’t place either of them. The one on the larger present he thinks he might have seen at least once before, but for the life of him he can’t think of where. 

 

 _Ah well,_ he thinks with a shrug and begins to tear the wrapping paper off. Woolly fabric immediately spills out and Harry blinks. Grabbing the material and shaking it out, he instantly realises that it’s a knitted jumper and whoever sent it probably knitted it themselves. 

 

 _It’s alright though,_ Harry thinks as he critically eyes the design of a golden Snitch on the front. It’s very well-made and the wool seems soft, not itchy. He pulls it on on top of his pyjamas. It fits perfectly. 

 

Reaching for the second present with unfamiliar handwriting, Harry glances at the label again. This handwriting he’s sure he’s never seen before. The gift is a lot smaller than the first one and it’s not clothes, because it’s not squishy enough. 

 

He rips the wrapping paper off and something falls out that is approximately the same colour as his skin in summer and when he picks it up it feels rubbery between his fingers. A closer look at the thing in his hand tells Harry that it’s a fake ear, but he’s not quite sure why it’s got a long tail… he holds up the end of it and takes a closer look. The tail, or whatever it is, is hollow like a tube. But what it’s meant to be used for, Harry has no idea. 

 

Checking the discarded wrapping paper again, Harry discovers a note. 

 

 

_”Happy Christmas Harry!_

 

_This is an Extendable Ear — one of our own inventions! You simply pop it in and place the Ear end wherever you wish to eavesdrop, works like a charm!”_

 

 

Harry huffs out a laugh as the handwriting changes slightly mid-sentence. 

 

 

_”Work BETTER than a Charm!”_

 

 

He can picture the Weasley twins perfectly, fighting over the quill the way they fight over conversations in real life, taking turns speaking or simply speaking over one another. 

 

 

_”Hope you have a lovely holiday and all that — don’t feel you need to wear mum’s jumper in public or anything. See you at Hogwarts!_

 

_F o G”_

 

 

So that’s who knitted him the jumper. Harry glances down at the Snitch on his front. Mrs Weasley. _But why? She’s never given me a Christmas present before. I’ve barely met the woman!_

 

He shrugs again and begins tearing into the presents from his friends instead. Seamus and Theo’s boxes are filled to the brim with sweets from their hometowns, and Seamus has even included a small bottle of fire-whiskey, that Harry quickly hides in his bedside drawer, before Remus catches him with it. 

 

Pansy and Daphne have gone halfsies on a beautiful golden tie pin, decorated with a solitary gemstone made to look like a Snitch, with a pair of wings engraved on either side of it. 

 

Blaise on the other hand has gone for a book of some sort, by the feel of it. Harry frowns, turning the small present over a few times in his hands. It’s a little weird that his friend would choose to give him a book… not that he doesn’t enjoy reading, but all his friends know what a bookworm his daddy is, so they should know by now that there will be no shortage of books in his present pile. _But maybe it’s a really rare book,_ Harry thinks and plucks at the Spellotape. 

 

As soon as the wrapping paper is off, not one but two books tumble into his lap and not only that, but a glass phial as well. Harry blinks in surprise and picks it up. It’s half the size of the books and rather flat, which would explain how it managed to stay hidden between the books without Harry realising it was there. The label reads: ’ _Wild-Strawberry-Flavour’d_ Slick™’

 

 _Slick? What’s that? Some sort of specialty Potions ingredient?_ Harry thinks bemused and turns the bottle over. 

 

_”With over a hundred-and-seventy years experience, Slick™ is still the No.1 provider of High Quality lubrication—”_

 

Harry flinches so suddenly, the bottle tumbles from his hands and lands with a soft _thump_ on top of the two books Blaise has including in his present. Feeling like his entire face has suddenly caught fire, Harry cautiously inserts an index finger under the top one and gives it a decisive flick. The book flops over and the front cover glares back at him with its tauntingly bright letters: _”Chaser & Keeper: a tale of forbidden love” _

 

Swallowing a groan, Harry snatches the second book from its hiding place beneath the first. A similarly cringe-worthy title is embossed across the front of this one as well, the letters even brighter than those on the first. 

 

A gentle knock on his bedroom door startles Harry and he drops the book in his haste to hide it. 

 

”Merry Christmas!” Sirius calls out happily from the other side of the door. ”Harry? You up yet?”

 

”Y-yeah, one sec!” Harry calls back and scrambles to hide the two books and the bottle of lube under the the pile of wrapping paper. 

 

The door slides open and his dad sticks his grinning head through. 

 

”Good haul this year?” 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says bracingly. ”I’m, er… I’ll open the rest in the living room, I’ll just be a sec…”

 

Sirius nods happily, but instead of shutting the door again like Harry had hoped, he strolls inside and plops down at the foot of Harry’s bed. 

 

”Cute jumper…” he comments. ”That from Molly?”

 

”What?” Harry instinctively looks down at his body. ”Oh. Yeah. Don’t know why she made me one, but…”

 

”Well you…” Sirius starts to say something, but falters and keeps whatever it was to himself and simply grins instead. 

 

That’s when it strikes Harry. The vision he had. Mr Weasley’s attack. Sirius had made a comment about Harry essentially saving the man’s life, but at the time Harry had thought he was just trying to make him feel better. He never thought anyone else would see it that way, that the Weasleys would see it that way… for a second, the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth and he feels sick. 

 

The jumper, that had felt like exactly the right size and not itchy at all only a moment ago, now feels too tight, too hot, too everything and it definitely feels itchy. Harry wishes Sirius would leave his bedroom again, so he can take it off. But as it is, he simply pulls on it slightly. 

 

”What else did you get? What’s this?” Sirius asks, plucking the Extendable Ear from the bed and studying it curiously. 

 

”It’s er… a thing for ehm… eavesdropping…” Harry mumbles, pulling a little harder on the woolly straitjacket. 

 

He watches in mute horror as Sirius’s attention wavers and he begins to rifle through the debris of wrapping paper and string, searching for more treasure and suddenly Harry wishes he’d left the bottle of fire-whiskey out on the bed. He much rather his dad find that, than the bottle of… of… 

 

He swallows thickly. His cheeks are burning again and he scrambles to gather up all the wrapping paper and carefully scoops up the books and glass phial along with the rubbish, then stuffs it all behind his back. 

 

”This is fancy…” Sirius comments idly, holding the tie pin up into the light from the window. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry croaks. ”Is there any coffee?”

 

”Oh yeah”, Sirius says and jumps to his feet again. ”That’s what I was supposed to tell you. Breakfast is ready and Remus thought we’d have it in the living room!”

 

”Okay, I’ll be right there!”

 

”All right”, Sirius says and shuffles over the doorway, but then hesitates at the threshold. ”You okay, Harry?”

 

”Yep, fine”, Harry nods. ”Great.”

 

”Great”, Sirius echoes and mirrors his nod with a look of relief on his face. ”See you in a bit then!”

 

As soon as Sirius is out of sight again, Harry releases the breath he’d tried not to hold in and his entire body sags. 

 

 _What the hell is Blaise playing at_ , he thinks furiously. _Giving me romantic novels and… and… when he_ knows _I’ll be opening the present in front of my dads!_

 

”Bastard”, Harry grumbles quietly and digs out the books and phial from the pile of rubbish again. 

 

He can hear his dads muffled voices out in the kitchen, his daddy’s tone inquisitive and his dad sounding almost defensive and even though he can’t quite make out the words, Harry can just picture the scene in front of him. Daddy with this sixth sense for sussing out when something is up with Harry and Sirius saying something along the lines of ’ _But he_ said _he’s_ fine!’

 

 _Damn it_ , Harry thinks and quickly stows Blaise’s presents along with Seamus’s fire-whiskey in the bedside drawer, before scrambling to his feet. That’s all he needs, causing an argument between his dads on Christmas Day!

 

He gathers up the remaining five presents and hurries out into the kitchen with a beaming grin on his face that he hopes Remus will accept as genuine. 

 

”Happy Christmas!” he exclaims. 

 

Remus blinks in surprise, but quickly returns his smile. 

 

”Merry Christmas, cub”, he says warmly. ”Happy with your presents so far?”

 

”Yeah, absolutely”, Harry nods and spins on his heel and calls over his shoulder, ”I’m just going to put these last ones under the tree and then I’ll come back!”

 

”No, no, we’re coming too”, Remus calls after him. 

 

A moment later, as Harry is placing the four presents from his dads on the the floor beneath the Christmas tree’s lowest branches, his daddy reappears with the massive breakfast tray floating in the air in front of him. 

 

”I thought we’d have breakfast in here — much cosier!” he says and levitates the tray onto the coffee table.

 

”Good idea”, Harry grins. 

 

He bounds over to the sofa with Draco’s present clutched eagerly in both hands and settles into the middle of the sofa, tucking his legs under his body and snuggling into Remus’s side, before tearing into the present. Remus pours him a cup of coffee and places it on the table in front of him and Harry mumbles a thanks absent-mindedly, distracted by the beautiful wrought gold picture frame revealed inside the neat wrapping. 

 

”What’s that?” Remus asks curiously. ”Did he make you another drawing?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says breathlessly, staring down at the incredible, detailed drawing in his lap. 

 

If it wasn’t for the occasional pencil stroke or smudged fingerprint in the shaded background, Harry might have believed it was a photograph, that’s how immaculate and detailed the drawing is. It depicts himself and Draco, lounging together in their favourite loveseat in the Slytherin Common Room, Harry curled up with his legs tucked under him, similar to how he’s sitting right now, and Draco sitting with his legs sprawled out in front of him and an arm slung around Harry’s body, hugging him close. They’re also gazing into each other’s eyes and Harry’s mouth is opened slightly as if he’s talking, while Draco listens to him, a small smirk quirking his lips. 

 

”He’s incredibly talented…” Remus murmurs. ”Take a look at this, Pads. Draco made Harry another drawing. This one is unbelievable!”

 

Harry feels the sofa cushions dip as his dad settles down on his other side and then he senses the man in his peripheral as he leans closer and cranes his neck to peer at the picture.

 

”Yeah, that’s really good… Harry, are you going to open the rest of your presents?”

 

”In a minute”, Harry mumbles distractedly, having just discovered a small note stuck to the back of the picture frame. 

 

”Let’s just have breakfast, I think this is going to take a while”, Remus tells Sirius quietly, a hint of fond amusement in his voice. 

 

Harry gently plucks the note from the back of the fram and unfolds it with trembling fingers, his heart leaping happily at the sight of Draco’s familiar swirly handwriting. 

 

 

_”Harry,_

 

_I hope you have great time with your dads. I really do wish I could be there with you. I miss you terribly, more than you can probably guess. I think about you every minute of every day, as pathetically sentimental as that is, and about that time in the Prefect’s Bathroom in particular… I’m counting down the seconds until the 4th of January when I get to see you, and hold you, and kiss you again…_

 

_I miss you, and love you, and adore you always!_

 

_Your Draco_

 

_P.S. If you want to get an idea of the kind of thoughts that go through my head when I think about you, tap the drawing with your wand — but wait until you’re alone!”_

 

 

Harry hurriedly folds the note again, before either of his dads try to read it over his shoulder. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire again. 

 

Remus gives him a fond, knowing look, but is kind enough not to comment. Instead he hands him one of his remaining presents. Harry tears the wrapping paper off to reveal a set of textbooks entitled _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts_ in three thick volumes, each with moving colour illustrations that will, according to Remus, give Harry a fighting chance to pass his DADA OWL despite Umbridge’s interference. 

 

Harry gives his daddy a surprised look and huffs out a chuckle; this is the first time the man has openly shown any displeasure for one of Harry’s teachers since Lockhart. A subtle blush breaks out in Remus’s cheeks, but he returns Harry’s teasing look defiantly. 

 

”Thanks, they’re great”, Harry says smiling. 

 

”Next one!” Sirius exclaims with a childish eagerness and brings one of Harry’s remaining gifts over from the under the tree with an Accio. ”This one’s from me!”

 

Harry laughs and accepts the medium-sized gift when his dad hands it to him. 

 

”Aren’t you going to open yours?” he asks. 

 

”We will”, Remus assures him. ”You open that first, then we’ll open ours…”

 

Harry shrugs and tears the wrapping paper off. Inside is a small box, containing a pocket knife. 

 

”That can pick any lock!” Sirius declares proudly. 

 

Remus shoots his husband a disapproving look, but doesn’t say anything, just accios the remaining presents over from the tree. He places Harry’s two in his lap and then hands Harry’s gift to Sirius over to the other man over Harry’s head, before carefully plucking at the Spellotape on his own. 

 

”You’re not giving each other anything?” Harry asks in surprise. 

 

A matching set of blushes immediately break out in both men’s faces, but they valiantly pretend like nothing and feign an exaggerated interest in their respective gifts from Harry. But considering Harry got Remus a new quill and a fresh supply of ink and Sirius a new pair of dragon hide gloves, he knows they can’t be _that_ interested… he’s more than happy to play along however, since he knows there’s not a lot of things that would make his dad blush, and the things that _would_ , he _really_ rather not hear about!

 

He quickly feigns an interest in his own gift, even though it’s another jumper. This one isn’t knitted though. It’s made from a rather soft fabric in an unusually vivid shade of emerald green and it’s got some sort of hood attached to it in the same fabric. Harry blinks at it. 

 

”Do you like it?” Sirius asks tentatively. ”We can take it back if you don’t, they gave me a receipt and said it guarantees an exchange, so if we go together you can pick out something else you like better… but I thought it was a nice colour, and most of the other jumpers had writings on them…”

 

”Writing?” Harry asks nonplussed. 

 

”Yeah, like slogans or brand names”, Sirius says and shrugs. 

 

”It was a muggle clothing shop”, Remus cuts in. 

 

”Muggle-infused fashion is all the rage on the continent, Tonks said”, Sirius says a little defensively. ”Just wait. Around this time next year, all the kids in Britain will be wearing stuff like this!”

 

”Maybe you want to save it for next year then, Harry…” Remus says with a teasing smile in his husband’s direction, but he clearly senses that the other man is genuinely worried Harry won’t like the jumper, because he immediately reaches out across the back of Harry’s shoulders and combs his fingers through the man’s hair. ”I’m only joking. I think it’s great and Harry will look really handsome in it…”

 

”You can change it, if you want”, Sirius tells Harry again, a small wrinkle of worry appearing between his eyebrows. 

 

”No, no, I love it”, Harry says quickly. ”Really!”

 

”Okay, one more left…” Remus says and gives the last, and smallest, gift a prod with his finger. 

 

Harry eagerly rips the paper off and discovers a small, nondescript wooden box inside. He lifts the lid gingerly and reveals one, sole leaf inside. He frowns in confusion and looks up at Remus. His confusion only grows when he spots the small, secretive smile on the man’s face.

 

”What…”

 

”That’s a mandrake leaf”, Remus says. 

 

Harry widens his eyes and gasps, hardly daring to believe it… but when Remus’s smile grows wider, confirming his suspicion, he lets out a squeal of delight and throws himself against the man. Remus chuckles and hugs him back. 

 

”You’ll have to keep it in your mouth for a month—”

 

”I know, I know, I remember!” Harry exclaims, pulling away from his daddy’s embrace again and turning to hug his dad too, knowing he’s probably the reason Remus has caved in and decided to let Harry become an animagus early. ”Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

Sirius laughs and claps him on the back. 

 

”Don’t think it’s going to be an easy process…” he warns half-heartedly. ”Having that in your mouth for a month, that’s the least of it…”

 

”Yeah, I remember what the book said…” Harry says and nods. 

 

”Here, let me help you with it…” Remus says and grabs his wand again. 

 

Harry places the small leaf under his tongue and then tilts his head back, so that Remus can put a Semi-permanent Sticking Charm on it. 

 

”How does it feel?” he asks with a smile. 

 

”Weird”, Harry says, moving his tongue around experimentally. 

 

”You’ll get used to it”, Sirius says. ”You just have to be a bit careful when you use your tongue, you know when you eat and… well, when you eat.”

 

He looks extremely uncomfortable and quickly changes the subject.

 

Later in the evening, when Remus is out in the small garden feeding the gnomes, Harry asks Sirius how he managed to persuade the other man to let him start the process to become an animagus early. 

 

At first, Sirius tries to pretend he’d done no such thing and that it was all Remus’s idea. But finally he gives in with a sigh and says, ”It was the Dementors… last summer… I didn’t _persuade_ _him_ exactly, I just _told_ him that _one_ _way_ to keep you safe from another Dementor attack, apart from teaching you the Patronus Charm, would be to let you study animagi magic — because Dementors don’t bother with animals, they only go for humans and, as far as we know, they can’t tell the difference between a real animal and a wizard in animagi form.”

 

Harry grins. Not only did Sirius persuade Remus, he did it in a rather cunning and foolproof way as well. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think a Slytherin came up with it. 

 

”Thanks”, he says. ”I can’t wait to get started.”

 

It’s not until he’s said _good night_ to his dads and crawled into bed that Harry reaches for the picture frame with Draco’s drawing and, propping it up against his bent legs, he reaches for his wand and gives the picture a tentative tap. 

 

Immediately the two figures in the drawing come to life and just like Harry had guessed, the dark-haired one is in the middle of some story and the blonde one is listening avidly, his smirk twitching at something the other boy says. 

 

Then, as Harry watches with bated breath, the slender fingers of the blonde’s hand, that had been splayed casually over the other Harry’s arm, float up to nestle in his messy dark hair and Harry can almost feel them in his own hair and shivers pleasantly. 

 

The Harry in the picture stutters to a stop — mid-sentence, by the looks of it — and the shading in his cheeks grows a little darker with a very realistic blush and he tilts his head back to accept the urgent kiss that the blonde plants on his mouth. 

 

Harry isn’t sure which of the two boys in the drawing deepens the kiss, but it soon turns very heated and Harry feels his pulse quicken and his cock begin to swell with interest as the two figures’s hands begin to roam desperately. The other Harry’s hair is messy beyond ridiculous after merely a few seconds of the blonde fisting it and pulling him closer. Then, with Seeker speed, the shorter boy springs up from his position and straddles the taller boy’s lap, and Harry gasps softly. 

 

Feeling embarrassed and excited in equal measure, and utterly unable to look away or even so much as blink, Harry stares as the two boys in the drawing grind together a few times and then gapes as the blonde more or less throws the brunette down on his back on the love-seat. Two bulging hard-ons are visible in the space between them for a second, before the blonde drapes himself on top of the other Harry and continues to devour him. 

 

Harry feels his mouth go dry as he watches the image of himself wrap its legs around the other boy’s waist eagerly and reaching up behind him to grab onto the armrest, as the blonde head ducks down and begins to kiss its way down the length of his throat, popping the buttons on his shirt open and flicking the material aside as he continues further and further down the smaller boy’s chest. 

 

When the blonde finally sits back, once again revealing both boys’ bulging crotches, and leers down at the smaller boy and reaching for his belt, Harry gives the drawing another hurried tap with his wand and fumbles with the picture frame in his hurry to hide it in his bedside drawer along with all the other Christmas gifts non-suitable for dads. 

 

Flopping back down on his back on the bed, Harry takes a shaky breath. His swollen cock is straining against the confines of his underpants and tenting his pyjama bottoms slightly. Glancing down, Harry thinks he can almost see it throb through the layer of cotton. 

 

He holds his breath and listens for any sign of movement outside his bedroom door and when he hears nothing, he breathes out again shakily and thrusts his hand down his pants. He’s halfway to his orgasm, with fragmented images of Draco’s naked body, smirking lips and glittering eyes playing on the inside of his eyelids, when he remembers the bottle of Slick™ Blaise gave him… a brief memory of a slender finger rubbing against his hole flickers into his mind… _maybe if I try it on myself, I’ll get a better idea of what it would feel like… just a little bit, just one finger…_

 

But before the idea has fully formed and turned into a decision, the orgasm ripples through him and he goes rigid, arching his back and squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

 _Next time,_ he thinks numbly, once he’s got his breathing back under control. _I’ll try it next time._

 

Over the next couple of weeks, in-between stuffing their faces with everything chocolatey and engaging in long-winded tournaments of Exploding Snap with Sirius, Harry and Remus continue practising the Patronus Charm and finally, on Twelfth Night, Harry manages to conjure a corporeal Patronus. His stomach swoops, but as soon as the Patronus form registers with him, it sinks again and the silvery creature immediately evaporates into thin air.

 

”What…” Remus’s proud smile slowly fades and he gives Harry a questioning look. 

 

”But… but… I don’t understand… That’s a _horrible_ memory! Why would it _do_ that?” Harry demands and throws himself down on the nearest surface, which happens to be the armchair Remus usually favours when he’s reading a book in front of the fire. 

 

”You thought of a horrible memory?” Remus frowns in confusion.

 

”No, I thought of a really good one! But _that_ —” he gestures at the spot where the Patronus had been. ”I mean _a ferret!_ A FERRET! I _hate_ ferrets!”

 

”Why do you hate ferrets?” Remus asks carefully, looking more and more confused. 

 

”I mean, I don’t hate _ferrets_ , but I hate that Moody transformed Draco into one and—” 

 

”Wait, what? Moody transformed Draco—?”

 

Harry lets out a pained groan and Remus gingerly sits down on the sofa next to the armchair and gives him a patient and compassionate look while he listens to him.

 

”No, not the real Moody — Barty Crouch Jr., when he was impersonating Moody, last year — he transformed Draco into a ferret, then he made him bounce up and down on the floor — _and it broke his arm!_ ” 

 

”All right…” Remus says calmly. ”That does sound awful, but Harry—”

 

”I don’t want that to be my Patronus!” Harry wails. 

 

”I understand, but that’s—”

 

”What’s Draco going to think! He’s really sensitive about that — still — any mention of ferrets and he has a strop! Now he’s going to think I actually thought the whole thing was funny, like everyone else! And I didn’t—!”

 

”I’m sure you didn’t”, Remus says in a soothing voice that makes Harry bristle, because that’s how you talk to little children when they’re scared a Boggart is hiding under their bed. ”And I’m sure Draco knows that too—”

 

”But what else is he going to think when that’s my happiest memory!” 

 

”No”, Remus says firmly and shakes his head. ”That’s not how the Charm works — no, listen to me Harry, before you start shouting again — the Patronus charm didn’t choose to assume the form of a ferret because of that one memory. Even if that would have been the memory you thought of to conjure it, that’s not how the charm works… so even if it has chosen a ferret to represent Draco—”

 

”But Draco’s nothing like a ferret!” Harry exclaims, cutting the man off once more. ”Ferrets are sneaky and twitchy and — and — ” 

 

Remus raises an amused eyebrow, ”Sounds very Slytherin, to me.” 

 

”— and squeaky!” Harry adds petulantly, shooting the man a glare. 

 

”They’re also very playful and social animals”, Remus says lightly, as if commenting on the weather. ”They tend to be territorial and cunning, as well… again, very Slytherin…” 

 

”Ha-ha”, Harry mutters.

 

”That’s enough, Harry”, Remus says firmly and pushes to his feet. ”You’ve just managed to conjure a corporeal Patronus. This is cause for celebration, not moping! I’m going to make a chocolate cake!”

 

 

*

 

On the last day of the holidays, the last person Harry would expect to show up at the cottage raps on the front door and glares back at them from the other side of the threshold when Remus opens it. 

 

”Severus”, he says in surprise and Harry can hear the smile in his voice from his vantage point behind his back. 

 

”Professor!” Harry exclaims happily. ”What are you doing here?”

 

”The Headmaster has sent me to discuss something with you”, the Potions Master tells Harry curtly, then flits his dark eyes over to Remus. ”All of you. If it’s not inconvenient—”

 

”No, no, of course not — come in, come in”, Remus says and steps aside with a sweeping gesture. ”I’ll put the kettle on!”

 

”Thank you, that won’t be necessary…” Professor Snape mutters and strides into the hall, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him as always and Harry beams, but quickly reigns it back in when he receives a sour look from the man. 

 

”It’s good to see you, Professor”, he says and tries not to smile too widely, just in case the man thinks he’s poking fun at him. ”Did you have a good Christmas?”

 

”It was acceptable”, Snape mutters evasively, but his scowl softens slightly and he follows Harry into the kitchen. 

 

”Won’t you stay for tea?” Harry asks him with an imploring look. ”Dad was called in to work, so he’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about…”

 

He catches Snape’s eyes flickering away from his own face and up to a point behind him, presumably to lock with Remus for a second, before they flit away completely and shutter. 

 

”No, I shan’t stay long…” Snape mumbles. ”I’m simply here because—”

 

”Surely you have time to stay for one cup of tea?” Harry insists. ”Daddy made a really delicious chocolate cake the other day—”

 

”Harry”, Remus admonishes gently.

 

”Sorry…” he mumbles, slumping a little in his seat. 

 

He’s not sure why he wants Professor Snape to stay for tea so badly. It’s not like he’s dying to spend time with the man exactly. But something tells him that the man doesn’t really have that many people to spend the holidays with and, even though he and Sirius clearly detest each other for some reason, at least he and Remus seem to get on well enough… and after everything they’ve been through, and getting to know the man better, Harry has actually grown quite fond of his Head of House and he wants to help him somehow.

 

”I guess I could stay for one cup…” Snape says quietly and Harry’s head shoots up in surprise, earning a half-hearted glare from the man before he glances over at Remus again. ”If it’s not an imposition—?”

 

”Of course not”, Remus says kindly. ”Do you want tea, or coffee?”

 

”Or hot chocolate?” Harry adds. 

 

”Certainly not”, Snape tells him swiftly, before turning back to Remus. ”But coffee would be… tolerable… I suppose.”

 

”You don’t like chocolate?” Harry asks with a cheeky grin. ”You’ll have to try daddy’s cake, though! I promise, you’ll love it!”

 

”Harry, that’s enough”, Remus says. ”I’m sure Professor Snape will have a piece if he feels like it. Stop pestering the man.”

 

Harry glances over at the Potions Master again and blushes slightly at the glint of amusement in the man’s dark eyes. They sit in companionable silence for a moment while they wait for Remus to finish preparing the coffee and the cake, and when he finally joins them and serves them both a cup of coffee each, Snape inclines his head and murmurs a soft _thank you_. 

 

”You’re welcome”, Remus murmurs, his smile twitching slightly. ”It _is_ good to see you…”

 

Professor Snape looks extremely uncomfortable at this display of affection, however mild and it makes Harry’s chest pinch, thinking he must not be very used to people showing him kindness… 

 

Remus quickly takes pity on him and turns his attention to Harry instead, handing him a cup of steaming coffee as well. Harry accepts it with a smile, then quickly pulls the sleeves back down over his hands when they ride up, conscious of the scar on the back of his left hand. 

 

”Are you cold?” Remus asks him. 

 

Harry quickly shakes his head, then glances over at Snape and catches his perceptive eyes flit between his hands and his face, and holds his breath. But the Potions Master says nothing and his face gives nothing away either, which Harry is extremely grateful for.

 

Before Remus can question Harry further, Snape straightens up importantly in his seat and shakes the hair out of his face. 

 

”The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, that it is his wish that you study Occlumency this coming term, Harry. You will receive private lessons once a week, but you must not tell anybody outside your immediate circle of friends about it, least of all Dolores Umbridge”, he speaks in a smooth rush of words, then raises his coffee cup to his mouth and takes a cautious sip before adding, ”I will be teaching you.”

 

Another look passes between the two grown men and Harry frowns. The amusement, or whatever it had been, that had glittered in both men’s eyes only a moment ago is now nowhere to be seen. If anything, a sense of foreboding has settled over the kitchen like a heavy blanket. 

 

”What… erm… what is it, this occlu-men-thingy?” he asks warily. 

 

”Occlumency”, Remus corrects him gently. ”It’s very advanced magic.”

 

”But essential for you to learn, according to the Headmaster”, Snape cuts in pointedly. 

 

”How advanced?” Harry asks his daddy, worrying his lip. 

 

He knows Professor Snape has very limited patience for when students are incompetent or slow to pick up on what he’s teaching them, remembering how Potions used to be before he got the hang of it and he really don’t wish to go back to that. Most of all, he doesn’t want Professor Snape to be disappointed with him. Not after everything he’s put the man through…

 

”Very advanced”, Remus says, but smiles kindly at him. ”But if I was going to have private lessons in it, I’d want Professor Snape to teach me…”

 

Another look passes between the two men. 

 

”Severus is a very accomplished Legilimens.”

 

”What’s that?” Harry asks. ”And what’s Occlumency?”

 

Professor Snape takes a deep breath and then speaks in a well-rehearsed rush, familiar to Harry as it is how the man usually speaks when he’s teaching, ”Occlumency is the magical defence of the mind against external penetration—”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest… _external penetration… like… being possessed…_

 

”—It is an obscure branch of magic and, as Remus has already pointed out, quite advanced but also very useful should you master it. Legilimency, is simply the opposite of Occlumency, the ability to penetrate the mind of another. A Legilimens is someone with the ability to do this, under the right circumstances, or to occlude should someone else try and break through your mind’s protective barriers.” 

 

”And… and you can do that?” Harry asks, gazing at the other man in wonder. ”You can read minds?”

 

”Not… quite…” Professor Snape mutters, shifting in his chair. ”I will go over all of this in detail with you in your first lesson.”

 

”All right”, Harry nods, accepting that he will have to wait for the information. 

 

But from what Snape has said so far, it sure sounds he can read minds, to Harry. He didn’t think it was possible for him to be more impressed by his Head of House, but clearly he’d been wrong. _Is there anything he can’t do?_

 

”Don’t worry about it being too advanced for you”, Snape says suddenly. ”I will help you grasp the principles and after that, it’s just down to practice and discipline… I realise your lack of focus will put you at a disadvantage—”

 

Harry splutters indignantly.

 

”—but I’m hoping that a learning atmosphere without any distractions around you will counter-act your usual inability to concentrate—”

 

”There’s nothing wrong with my ability to concentrate!”

 

”Piece of cake?” Remus offers Snape with a smile and the other man shoots him a half-hearted glare. 

 

”I’ve got an E average in Potions!” Harry insists stubbornly.

 

A small smirk flickers onto Professor Snape’s face, but fades just as soon when they hear the front door open and shut. 

 

In the next moment, Sirius waltzes into the kitchen. His wide grin falls as soon as he catches sight of Professor Snape and instead he scowls darkly. 

 

”Darling”, Remus says lightly. ”Professor Snape is here to talk to Harry about giving him private lessons in Occlumency—”

 

”With whom?” Sirius demands. 

 

”With me”, Snape says silkily, his dark eyes flashing with challenge. 

 

”Why?” Sirius more or less barks out, his hands balling into fists at his sides. 

 

”The Headmaster seems to think it would be prudent—” Snape hisses, his voice growing quieter as if to counter-act Sirius’s raised tone. 

 

”Then why can’t he teach him?”

 

”We think this is great news”, Remus interrupts in a loud and clear, before Snape has a chance to reply and Sirius shoots him a sour look. ”Come and sit down. Have some cake.”

 

”…’m not hungry”, Sirius growls and turns on his heel, stomping back out of the kitchen again. 

 

Harry glances between the two remaining grown-ups worriedly, as a moment’s tense silence spreads out between the three of them. Professor Snape is glaring at the barely touched cup of coffee in front of him and Remus is staring out the window pensively.

 

”I believe I have out-stayed my welcome…” Snape murmurs finally. 

 

”Don’t be silly”, Remus says immediately and tears his eyes away from the window again. ”Stay. Finish your coffee.”

 

”Thank you, but I really ought to get going…” Snape says and stands up swiftly, then hesitates for a second and looking at a point halfway across the table in Remus’s direction. ”I appreciate your hospitality.”

 

”It was nothing”, Remus says quietly. 

 

Snape’s eyes flicker up to meet his for the briefest moment, then he gives him a small nod of acknowledgement. 

 

Harry looks between the two of them, a feeling of unease settling into the pit of his stomach. He realises there’s a lot more going on then he’s aware of, and he hates not knowing what’s going on… ever since he found out about his daddy’s condition, he’s been especially sensitive to the idea of his dads, or anyone really, keeping things from him. 

 

”Harry…” Snape says and pins him with a serious, but also rather kind look. ”Your first lesson will be at six o’clock on Monday evening. But I’ll see you tomorrow at the feast.”

 

”All right”, Harry nods. ”Yeah. See you tomorrow…”

 

As soon as the front door shuts with a click, Sirius comes storming back into the kitchen bursting with a fight and Remus gives Harry a small nod of permission to take his coffee cup into his bedroom. He hurries to comply and has barely made it into the hallway when Sirius starts barking out expletives in the kitchen behind him. He quickly ducks into his bedroom and shuts the door. Sirius is shouting so loudly that Harry can still make out the words, but Remus’s voice becomes an unintelligible undercurrent of calm. 

 

Sinking down on his bed with a sigh, Harry cradles his coffee cup close to his face and thinks. He’s always known his dad and Professor Snape hate each other, but he’s never understood why. They probably don’t have enough in common to get on, he figures. _But it’s not like they’re school children anymore! Even if they’re not friends, they should still be able to be civil around each other — like Professor Snape and daddy are!_

 

 _Maybe that’s the problem,_ Harry muses. _Maybe dad’s jealous or something._

 

 _Well, that’s rich,_ he thinks then. _According to dad himself_ , he’s _the one who_ experimented _back in Hogwarts, with both wizards_ and witches, _while daddy was in love with him since day one! If anyone has a right to be jealous — it’s him!_

 

Sighing heavily, Harry drains his coffee cup and flops back on the bed and reaches for one of the copies of _Snitch_ on his bedside table. He realises that there’s no point in him taking sides, when he doesn’t even know the full story… he just hopes that whatever happened between Professor Snape and his dad in the past, that they’ll be able to get over it at some point. 

 

Glancing over at his bedside table, Harry sighs again. He hasn’t opened the drawer all holiday, but the thought of its contents, especially Blaise’s gift, has been haunting him day and night. Not so much the gifts themselves, because the more he thinks about it, he’s sure Blaise never really meant for him to use the lubrication exactly — or even if he thought he might, Harry is sure that his primary reason for choosing it, and the books, was to make him uncomfortable. So it’s essentially a joke gift. Which is fine. 

 

But the thoughts triggered by the gifts are anything but a joke to Harry and in combination with the words Draco spoke to him the last evening at Hogwarts, and brought up again in his letter, not to mention the drawing he made for him, they have become a massive albatross around his neck. 

 

He knows he really wants to do _that_ with Draco. Ever since the Prefect’s Bathroom when Draco slipped his fingers in-between his buttocks and gently rubbed against the sensitive skin there, he’s thought about it almost every time he’s touched himself. But he also knows that he’s not quite ready for it. Not yet. And he’s not sure how to explain that to Draco without hurting his feelings, or making him angry. 

 

And as much as the thought of talking about sex with either of his dads is a mortifying one, Harry knows he needs to ask Remus for his advice on this before he heads back to Hogwarts. 

 

He waits until his dads’s voices quiet down out in the kitchen, then ventures out of his bedroom again. He finds Sirius sprawled out on the sofa listening to the Wireless, but there’s no sign of Remus anywhere.

 

”All packed?” Sirius asks him.

 

”Ehm, yeah, almost… where’s daddy?”

 

”Romilda owled and asked if he wouldn’t mind helping her with a Boggart”, Sirius says and reaches out to lower the volume on the Wireless. ”Hey, Harry, listen… I’m sorry about before… I just… Snape just gets under my skin, I know that’s no excuse for acting the way I did, but…”

 

”That’s okay”, Harry mumbles awkwardly. ”Is that why daddy left?”

 

”No, no”, Sirius hurries to reassure him. ”No, we’re fine.”

 

Harry nods, relieved. 

 

”We’re more than fine, we’re great”, Sirius says, rubbing the back of his neck. ”Your daddy and I love each other. Very much—”

 

”I know”, Harry says. ”I’m glad you’re not fighting… so, erm… when is he coming back?”

 

”Shouldn’t be too long, unless it’s a particularly strong Boggart. Why? What’s up?”

 

”Nothing, really, just… wanted to talk to him… about somthing”, Harry mumbles.

 

”Well, maybe I can help?” Sirius offers and turns the Wireless off completely. 

 

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head. But at the look of hurt that flashes in his dad’s face, he sighs and says, ”It’s about sex, all right?”

 

The hurt in Sirius’s face quickly morphs into an amalgam of panic and embarrassment, but despite this he stammers out a bracing, ”Well, I’m not exactly a virgin!”

 

Harry gives him a half-hearted glare, remembering the talk they had at Grimmauld Place in the summer. 

 

 _Although_ , he thinks. _That’s actually a good point. If dad is more experienced than daddy, it would be good to get his perspective on this…_

 

But Sirius is notoriously bad at these types of talks. Harry remembers when Remus had The Talk with him a couple of years ago. Sirius had literally fled the room that time… Harry gives him a doubtful look now. The other man returns it stubbornly. 

 

 _Fine,_ Harry thinks. _In for a Knut, in for a Galleon…_  

 

”Well, okay… er… how old were you the, ehm, first time you had… er… you know… sex?”

 

”Thirteen”, Sirius replies without batting an eye and Harry blinks. ”What?”

 

” _Thirteen_?” Harry repeats incredulously. ”When you, when… when you had, you know… ehm…"

 

”What?”

 

”Er…”

 

”Oh!” Sirius exclaims, as the Knut drops. ”Nononono! No! NO! Much older, much, much… _much_ older! Adult!”

 

”Oh”, Harry says, feeling slightly relieved. ”Okay!”

 

”Yeah, no, gosh, Harry! Hang on — why? — is Draco pressuring you to have a-anal sex?” Sirius frowns sternly. 

 

”No!” Harry quickly shakes his head. ”No, not at all, it’s just… well, our friends keep joking about it and he… well, he doesn’t seem so… ehm, bothered by it and… yeah…”

 

”Right… all right, that’s… that’s fine, then”, Sirius mutters. ”But if he _was_ pressuring you, or asking you, or even so much as _hinting_ —”

 

”Dad…” Harry mutters wryly, rolling his eyes. 

 

”I’m just saying, he’s just bloody well going to have to wait—!”

 

”Dad—!”

 

”Just saying…”

 

Despite everything, Harry can’t help but to smile. Sirius gives him a sheepish look, then fidgets a little awkwardly as if the embarassment from talking about sex is finally kicking in. Harry walks over and takes the seat next to him on the sofa. 

 

”You can turn the Wireless back on”, he offers and pulls his legs under his body. 

 

”You sure? You don’t want to… continue talking?” Sirius asks hesitantly, his eyes shining with relief when Harry shakes his head. ”Well… if you’re sure!”

 

He reaches over and turns the knob eagerly and the trembling barritone of Septimus Curio, lead singer in The Rhythmic Runes, fills the air around them. Harry smiles and leans against his dad slightly. Sirius immediately puts his arm around him and gives his shoulder a light squeeze. 

 

They listen to the rest of the _Witching Hour,_ bickering good-naturedly about which band is better, Spellbound or The Weird Sisters, and Harry is just beginning to nod off when Glenda Chittock wishes the listeners a good night, before introducing the late broadcast of The Wizarding Wireless Network News. Sirius nudges Harry’s temple with his nose. 

 

”You should go to bed, runt…”

 

”Just five more minutes?”

 

”You want to listen to the news?” Sirius asks sceptically. 

 

”I want to wait for daddy to get back”, Harry admits, glancing up at the other man sheepishly. ”Not to talk to him, you know, about that stuff… I just want to say good night to him, that’s all…”

 

”Tell you what”, Sirius says and plants a kiss on his forehead. ”You get ready for bed and when daddy gets home, I’ll tell him to go tuck you in…”

 

”Even if I fall asleep before he gets home?”

 

”I’ll tell him to wake you”, Sirius assures him gently, giving his shoulder another squeeze. 

 

Harry relents with a nod and, unfurling his heavy limbs, he pushes to his feet and totters out of the living room, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe drozily on the way.

 

”Careful…” Sirius murmurs behind him. 

 

Harry falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, but after what feels like merely a second, he’s gently shaken awake again. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turns over and peers up at the blurry figure sitting on the side of his bed. 

 

”Hey cub… your dad said you wanted me to let you know I got back alright?” Remus whispers and Harry feels his fingers card through his hair. ”I’m fine, pup… go back to sleep…”

 

”Wait…” Harry croaks and reaches out blindly to grab the man’s hand. 

 

”I’m not going anywhere”, Remus assures him softly. ”I’ll be right here. You go back to sleep.”

 

”Daddy… you know I love you, right?”

There’s a brief moment of silence when Harry squints up at his daddy’s blurry silhouette, struggling to keep his eyes open while the hypnotic rhythm of Remus’s fingers combing through his hair is expertly lulling him back to sleep. 

 

”Of course I know, pup…” Remus murmurs. ”I love you too. More than anything.”

 

”I know…” Harry mumbles sleepily. 

 

The next thing he knows, he’s lying curled up under his covers and sunlight is streaming in through the window. He blinks his eyes open and squints out into the room. He can hear at least one of his dads’ tinkering out in the kitchen. He arches his back languidly and stretches his arms over his head, knocking his knuckles against the headboard. 

 

When he opens his bedroom door, the smell of coffee and fresh-baked bread hits him and his stomach gurgles happily. 

 

He pauses in the doorway of the kitchen and takes in the scene in front of him. Sirius is sitting in his usual seat at the table, reading the Prophet and Remus is bent over him, pouring coffee into his cup. They both look up and smile at him in greeting. Harry smiles back. 

 

”Morning, runt…” Sirius says lightly. ”Did you finish packing?”

 

”You already asked me that”, Harry mutters and takes the seat across from him at the table. 

 

”And you said ’almost’, which we all know is Harry for ’I’ve opened my trunk and thought about putting some things into it’…”

 

Remus snorts, but immediately swats at his husband’s head playfully, He misses him by an inch however, because Sirius leans away from him just in time and shoots him a teasing grin. Harry beams, happy to see that his dads have made up.

 

”There’s plenty of time”, Remus says and pours coffee into a second cup for Harry. ”I’m actually surprised you’re up this early, Harry. Usually we have to drag you out of bed when it’s time to leave…”

 

Harry accepts the cup from him with a smile, grabbing it with both hands, eager to warm them on the hot porcelain. The sleeves of his pyjama top fall down his arms and the light pink scar tissue on the back of his left hand gleams up at him — the words _’I must’_ taunting him — and he quickly puts the hand in his lap, hidden from his dads’ view under the table. He ducks his head and brings the coffee cup to his mouth to blow on the hot beverage, while steeling himself… _did they see?_

 

His heart is pounding in his chest… _liar-liar-liar…_

 

He can hear Sirius rustle the pages of his paper… _is he putting it down? Is he angry?_

 

_Liar-liar-liar…_

 

”Still nothing about Arthur”, Sirius says casually and Harry snaps his head up. ”I’m surprised no-one at St. Mungo’s has leaked the story yet…”

 

”There’s no story if they don’t know where he got attacked”, Remus says, just as casually as he sits down next to his husband and reaches for a piece of toast. 

 

Relief floods Harry with such force he feels almost light-headed from it. _They didn’t see!_

 

He knows he should tell them. Now, while he has the opportunity. _But_ … He sips his coffee carefully. He really doesn’t want to ruin this moment with them. _Besides,_ he tells himself. _They had a massive row yesterday and only just made up. They deserve to enjoy a good, carefree morning together. We all do. As a family._

 

After breakfast Sirius hugs Harry good bye and leaves for work and Harry spends the rest of the morning helping Remus with the house work and then retires to his bedroom to pack his things, while his daddy sits down to do some writing. 

 

They both take a break for a late lunch and then spend the rest of the afternoon playing wizarding chess in front of the fire, until it’s time to leave. Harry carries Hedwig’s cage and Remus levitates his trunk for him and together they make their way across Hogsmeade towards the station. 

 

They reach the station just as the Hogwarts Express pulls into the platform and Remus levitates Harry’s trunk towards one of the carriages, before pulling into a massive hug. 

 

”It’s been so good to have you home, Harry”, he murmurs thickly, sniffling into his hair. ”You be good now and keep out of trouble, okay?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry croaks, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. 

 

”And I’ll see you soon, okay? Next Hogsmeade weekend. Bring Draco too, if you want. And if he wants”, Remus says, pulling back slightly to peer into Harry’s face with a watery smile. ”Okay?”

 

Harry nods and blinks quickly a couple of times, to get the sting out of his eyes. Remus cups his face and then leans down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. 

 

”I love you…” he murmurs. ”Be good.”

 

”I will”, Harry promises, his chest pinching at the thought of the words etched into his hand. ”I promise I’ll stay out of trouble for the rest of the year!”

 

”Harry!” 

 

Remus eyes flicker to a point over Harry’s shoulder and his smile widens. He gives Harry a final, quick peck on the forehead and then takes a step back and raises a hand in greeting. Harry has barely turned all the way round when he’s enveloped in a pair of long, lean arms and pulled against an even leaner body. The scent of coconut and peppermint settles over him and he inhales happily, hugging the other boy back. 

 

It only lasts for a second, and then Draco is pulling away from him again so that he can shake Remus’s hand. Harry exchanges an amused look with his daddy, but the man returns Draco’s handshake and gives him a kind smile. 

 

”It’s good to see you again, Mr Lupin. I hope you had a good holiday?”

 

”It was, thank you”, Remus says and then, with only a mischievous twinkle in his eye as warning, he squeezes the blonde’s hand firmly and pulls him into a quick, one-armed hug. 

 

Draco stumbles back, blinking in shock. 

 

”And please, call me Remus…” 

 

Harry beams as his daddy gives Draco a gentle pat on the shoulder and then pushes past him to shake the hands of all of Harry’s other friends casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all that he just hugged Draco for the first time. Draco is standing rigidly, still clearly in shock, when Harry brushes their fingers together and then he shakes out of it slightly and meets his gaze. 

 

”You okay?” Harry asks with a teasing smirk. 

 

”What? Yeah. Of course”, Draco mumbles, blushing a bright pink. ”Why wouldn’t I be? Are you? Okay? I-I- m-mean, how are you? How was your ehm h-holiday?”

 

”It was great”, Harry says, chuckling. 

 

Draco takes a deep breath and composes himself again, his eyes growing sharp as he returns Harry’s smirk. 

 

”Yeah?” he murmurs. ”Did you get any good presents?”

 

It’s Harry’s turn to blush. Luckily his daddy returns to say good bye and saves him from the embarrassment of having to come up with something clever to say, and by the time they’re squeezed into the carriage with the others, Draco seems to have forgotten about it and is happily lounging against the wall of the carriage with his arm slung loosely around Harry. 

 

”So, Harry…” Blaise says casually, smirking coolly at him. ”What was the best gift you got this year?”

 

”They were all good”, Harry says, shooting him a warning glare. ”But actually, my dads got me something kind of cool… check it out—”

 

He stick his tongue out and shows them the mandrake leaf stuck to the underside of it. 

 

”What the hell is that?” Seamus asks, frowning. 

 

”A mandrake leaf”, Harry says and leans into Draco again. ”It’s the first step towards becoming an animagus!”

 

He’s met with a chorus of gasps and coos and Draco gives him a look of delighted surprise, with just a hint of admiration. 

 

”No way!” Seamus exclaims. ”You’re goin’ ter be able to turn into a cat or something, like ol’ McGonagall?”

 

”Yeah, or something”, Harry agrees happily. 

 

”That’s wicked! Wonder what animal you’ll be… do you get to pick?”

 

”No”, Harry shakes his head. ”But I have a pretty good idea of what I’ll be…”

 

And then he tells them about Remus’s new Patronus being a swift and that it’s supposed to represent him and Remus’s theory that that’s probably Harry’s animagi form as well. 

 

”So you’ll turn into a bird?” Seamus snickers. 

 

”That’s perfect”, Draco murmurs, ignoring the Irish boy’s joke. ”That’s so you…”

 

Harry turns to meet his gaze and smiles, feeling the other boy’s fingers brush circular patterns on his arm. 

 

”I can just picture it”, Draco adds. ”You darting all over the place like a lunatic, as usual, except you won’t even need a broom anymore…”

 

Harry chuckles, ”Yeah, I hope he’s right. I’d love to be able to fly without a broom!”

 

*

 

The first week back passes in something of a blur. You’d think they were moments away from a massive disaster, the way the teachers are talking and piling homework on them. But to be fair, the prospect of failing an O.W.L. is a kind of disaster and one that Draco at least is doing everything in his power to avoid. Harry and the others are little more relaxed about their revising, but Harry is starting to feel the pressure as well, with every passing day and every assigned homework essay. 

 

Draco even starts talking about leaving the Quidditch team, so that he can spend the time he’d usually spend on practise to revise, but Harry manages to talk him out of it, reminding him that he loves Quidditch and the regular physical exercise will help him concentrate on his studies as well. He hopes this is true, because when Flint gives them the new training schedule, he almost considers leaving himself…

 

”Don’t be absurd”, Draco mutters, scanning his revision planner with frantic eyes. ”If you leave, we don’t stand a chance at winning the Quidditch Cup either…”

 

Finally, the first week draws to a close and Monday evening rolls around. Draco looks up at him in surprise when he disentangles himself from him on the loveseat and says he needs to get going to Snape’s office. 

 

”Why?”

 

”I’m getting private lessons in something called Occlumency this term… Dumbledore’s idea—”

 

”They’re making you take another class? _In your O.W.L. year?_ ” Draco says, aghast. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry shrugs. ”I don’t think I’ll have to sit an O.W.L. in it our anything though… it’s kind of a secret.”

 

”Why?” Draco frowns. ”What is it?”

 

”I’m not really sure yet. I’ll tell you about it later…”

 

Snape’s office is as gloomy as ever, the many glass jars lining the walls creating a mosaic of colour, gleaming softly in the low light from the candles on the desk. Professor Snape emerges out of the shadows like an ominous bat and looms over him. Harry attempts a smile, but it comes off as twitchy at best. His stomach is a jumble of knots and he keeps flashing back to the conversation in the kitchen and his daddy telling him Occlumency is _very advanced magic_ …

 

”Have a seat, Harry”, Professor Snape tells him calmly. ”Before we get started, I’d like to talk to you…”

 

Harry nods and walks up to the chair in front of the desk. An avalanche of bad memories washes over him, of each and every other time he’s sat in this chair… in trouble. 

 

Professor Snape swoops down and sits down in the chair on the other side of the desk, staring at him steadily over the rim of a stone basin… _hang on, I know what this is,_ Harry thinks and gives the stone basin a second look. 

 

The last time he saw this, it was hidden in a cupboard in Dumbledore’s office and full of a swirling silvery substance — _memories_ —

 

”This is a Pensieve”, Snape murmurs. 

 

Harry tears his eyes away from the runes etched into the basin along the rim and nods. 

 

”Harry… why haven’t you told your dads about the blood quill yet?”

 

Harry hangs his head and sighs. 

 

”The longer you wait—”

 

”I know”, Harry mumbles. ”I know, Sir… I just… I’ve tried telling them, but there never seemed to be the right time and…”

 

That’s not true, at all, of course. Harry has been deliberately avoiding telling his dads about his scar all year. But for some reason he thinks Professor Snape is more likely to let him get away with it, if he thinks he’s at least been trying. 

 

”If you don’t tell them by the end of this term, I will have to”, Snape tells him firmly. ”Now. Occlumency.”

 

Harry straightens up and gives the Potions Master his full attention, his body thrumming with nerves once more. 

 

”As I told you when I visited your home, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence… The Dark Lord is a very skilled Legilimens—”

 

”He can read minds too?” Harry cuts in, feeling his blood run cold at the idea and adding a belated _Sir_ when the Potions Master shoots him a sour look. 

 

”The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure, nor are thoughts etched on the inside of skulls to be perused by any intruder”, Snape says curtly. ”The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, but those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and interpret their findings correctly, but it’s less about reading specific thoughts and more about sensing emotions or viewing memories…”

 

Harry feels colder and colder the more Professor Snape speaks, his hands and face growing numb and his heart beating a steady tattoo in his tight chest. 

 

”The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Because only those who are skilled at Occlumency are able to conceal those feelings and memories that contradict the lie.”

 

”So… he could know what we’re th-thinking… right now, Sir?” Harry asks quietly. 

 

Something in Snape’s dark seems to soften, even if his voice remains cold and crisp when he tells Harry that with the Dark Lord being at a great distance from Hogwarts, he would struggle to penetrate their minds _even without_ the considerable protections placed on the castle, and Harry relaxes slightly again. 

 

”Hogwarts is guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safetly of those who dwell within her walls”, Snape reassures him. ”Time and space matter in magic. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency.”

 

”So, then, why does Dumbledore think it’s so important that I learn this?” Harry asks, dreading the answer even before the words are out of his mouth. ”Sir?”

 

”Well… it would seem… that the usual rules don’t apply to you, Harry”, Snape admits, pursing his lips in annoyance, as if the very notion of rules that he’s spent his whole life learning and mastering bending unpredictably is a personal insult to him. ”The curse that failed to… kill you…”

 

The man pauses for a brief moment to take a deep breath, his eyes flitting away to glare at a pickled toad on the nearest shelf. 

 

”… seems to have forged some kind of connection between the Dark Lord’s mind and your own, allowing your mind to share his thoughts and emotions when you are at your most relaxed and vulnerable — when you are asleep, for instance — and the Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this continue. In short, he wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord.”

 

Harry’s heart is hammering by the end of Professor Snape’s spiel and fear is pumping through his veins. But despite this, a small voice pipes up at the back of his mind… _but why?_

 

Harry recognises this voice. It’s not inner Remus, or even his inner Snape. It’s his own voice speaking, but it’s his Gryffindor side… this is the voice that has persuaded him to sneak past massive three-headed dogs to steal the Philospher’s Stone from under the nose of Voldemort himself; to venture into the Dark Forest in the middle of the night to talk to giant spiders that want to eat him; to go against his Head of House’s express orders to stay in the safety of his dorm and instead wilfully break into the Chamber of Secrets to face a real life monster… 

 

_But still…_

 

Even if Harry himself wants nothing more than to close his mind to Voldemort… why would Dumbledore want that? _It’s been useful so far, hasn’t it? Mr Weasley would be dead if it wasn’t for this connection, after all…_

 

He suddenly becomes aware of Snape’s eyes on him again and quickly tries to smooth his face out into a neutral mask, but it’s too late. Snape is already studying him with narrowed eyes flashing with suspicion and Harry swallows thickly. 

 

”It’s just… it can be a bit useful though, can’t it, Sir?” He asks carefully. 

 

Snape says nothing for a long time, just continues to study Harry like he’s one of the specimens in the jars around them, while tracing his thin lips with one slender, potion-stained finger. Harry squirms a little under the scrutiny, but maintains the eye-lock.

 

”It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between the two of you”, Snape says finally, his voice slow and deliberate, each syllable spoken with silky precision. ”Until very recently.”

 

Harry’s stomach plummets. 

 

”Up until now, it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions and sneaking a peek at his thoughts, without him being any wiser… however, the vision you had shortly before Christmas was such a strong incursion upon the Dark Lord’s thoughts—”

 

”But”, Harry speaks before he can stop himself, as a sudden thought strikes him. ”I saw into the mind of his snake, not—!”

 

” _Don’t_. Interrupt me. Harry…” Snape snaps icily. 

 

”S-sorry, Sir”, Harry mumbles immediately and slumps a little in his seat. ”I just thought… if it’s Voldemort’s thoughts that I’m—”

 

” _Don’t say his name!_ ” Snape snarls in an unusually loud voice. 

 

Harry flinches and ducks his head again, slumping even further in his seat. A tense and heavy silence settles over the office. Peering over at the Potions Master cautiously, Harry catches him rub his left arm through the sleeve of his robes while once again glaring at the pickled toad. 

 

”Sorry, Professor…” he says quietly. 

 

”Never mind”, Snape says curtly. ”It’s a valid question. I believe you visited the snake’s mind because that’s where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment…”

 

”Wh-what do you m-mean, Si—?”

 

”I mean he was possessing the snake at the time, so you dreamed you were inside the snake, too”, Snape snaps, wrenching his right hand away from his left wrist and clamping both hands down on the armrests of the chair. ”The important point is, now that the Dark Lord is aware of your ability to access his thoughts and emotions, he has also deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, he has realised that he might be able to access _your_ thoughts and feelings in return. Which brings us back to Occlumency.”

 

Professor Snape suddenly springs to his feet and swirls around to stand next to his chair and before Harry has even registered what’s happened, he’s got his wand in his hand. Harry starts, blinking at the wand apprehensively. 

 

Snape slowly raises it to his head and with the tip touching the roots of his long, black hair and when he pulls  it away again, a silvery strand of some smoky substance comes away from his head as well.

 

 _A memory,_ Harry realises with a jolt and watches as Professor Snape deposits it into the Pensieve between them. 

 

Professor Snape repeats the action several times, until the Pensieve is swirling with at least five of his memories and he grabs the whole thing and puts it on a shelf out of their way, before returning to stand behind the desk facing Harry with his wand at the ready. 

 

”Stand up and take out your wand, Harry.”

 

”Wh-why, what… what are we doing, Sir?” Harry asks warily, as images of the Duelling Club begins to swirl around in his head. 

 

”I am going to try and break into your mind”, Snape says softly. ”You… are going to try and stop me… you may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of.”

 

”R-really?” Harry says in surprise and clutches his wand nervously, getting to his feet. 

 

”Yes… remember when you successfully threw off the Imperius Curse last year? You’ll find that a similar power is needed for this. But don’t expect to succed right away. And don’t feel disheartened when you don’t, either. _I_ don’t expect you to succeed initially — not because of any fault of yours, you understand — this is very advanced magic and will require a lot of practise before you get the hang of it… but I want to assess your level before I get into the specifics with you. Now, wand at the ready, Harry…”

 

Harry nods and raises his wand, taking a deep, steeling breath. 

 

”Good”, Snape murmurs quietly. ”Now, brace yourself… _legilimens_!”

 

The office and Professor Snape begins to swim before Harry’s eyes; image after image races through his mind, blinding him to his surroundings. 

 

Harry is five and flying his toy broomstick around the garden, Sirius chasing him happily and Remus watching from the back door. Then suddenly Harry swerves a little too quickly and loses his balance and before he knows it, he’s slid off the broom and fallen the five feet to the ground. For one heart-stopping second, the wind is knocked out of him and he is gripped by an ice-cold fear that he’s somehow died from the fall. As soon as he manages to suck in a breath into his lungs again, it escapes him again in a sob. In the next moment, Sirius has grabbed him and lifted him from the ground and Harry clambers onto him, crying miserably… 

 

He’s eleven and getting fitted for his school robes in Madam Maulkin’s and a blonde boy is trying to impress him by being snooty and Harry thinks it’s kind of cute, until Remus returns and the boy sneers at his slightly worn-out robes… Later that eveing Remus is tucking him into bed, petting his hair gently as he tells him, _”If you are both sorted in the same house, I’m sure you’ll get to know each other better and you’ll realise that there’s a different side to him.”_

 

 _”How do you know?”_ Harry asks suspiciously. 

 

 _”There always is”,_ Remus tells him simply and smiles…

 

He’s sprawled on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, watching in shock as Riddle suddenly falls to his knees, screaming in agony before suddenly disappearing…

 

He’s supporting Draco’s weight as they’re making their way back through the tunnel connecting the Chamber of Secrets with the rest of the castle, when Professor Snape emerges from the darkness in front of them, his black robes rumpled but billowing more dramatically than ever and his dark eyes blazing with fury, and Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach…

 

He’s thirteen and watching in mute horror, from behind Professor Snape’s back, as his daddy collapses in a spasming heap in a pool of moonlight, then begins to transform into a wolf and howls up at the moon…

 

He’s twelve and he and Draco are standing on opposites sides of the dorm, staring at each other. Draco’s pale face s streaked with tears and when he blinks, another couple spill over his lashes and run down his cheeks, even as a bright smile breaks out across his face —

 

No, not that, a voice speaks up at the back of Harry’s mind. That’s private —

 

— Draco kills the distance between them in three quick strides and grabs Harry’s head in a tight grip, crashing their lips together —

 

No —

 

”— not that — AHHH!” Harry lets out a startled yell as a sharp pain explodes in his knee. 

 

Blinking tears from his eyes, Harry sits up from his sprawled position on the floor and looks around in confusion. Snape’s office comes back into focus and he realises he must have banged his knee on the desk and fallen to the floor. He struggles to his feet again, feeling disoriented and slightly out of breath.

 

Professor Snape is watching him apprehensively from the other side of the desk, rubbing at a red welt on the inside of his right wrist. 

 

”Did you mean to cast a Stinging Hex?” he asks coolly. 

 

Harry shakes his head. 

 

”I thought not… for a first attempt, that wasn’t too bad. You did manage to stop me eventually, but you wasted a lot of time and energy shouting. You also let me get in too far initially, because you weren’t focused enough.”

 

”It all happened so quickly”, Harry mutters. ”Did you… did you see everything I saw?”

 

”Flashes of it. But you needn’t worry. I’m hardly concerned with petty teen dramas…” Harry shoots him a half-hearted glare, to which the other man responds with a small smirk. ”Let’s try a different approach… close your eyes…”

 

Harry swallows thickly, feeling his stomach coil with dread. He’s not sure he’s up for another round so soon. All in all, the experience was wholly unpleasant, regardless of bumped knees… a headache is already building behind his eyes. But he nods and raises his wand once more, letting his eyes flutter closed. 

 

”Now… clear your mind…” Professor Snape’s silky voice slithers over to him and Harry shivers slightly and even though he tries his best to comply, random thoughts keep flitting into his head. ”Let go of all emotion… empty your mind… _focus_ …”

 

 _Stop thinking,_ Harry tells himself. _Empty mind. No thoughts. Don’t think…_

 

_I’m doing it! I’m not thinking — oh, wait…_

 

”You’re not doing it, Harry…”

 

 _I know,_ Harry thinks churlishly. _I’m_ trying _though!_

 

”You need to be more disciplined than this, come on now… _focus_ … let’s try again, on the count of three… one… two… three… _legilimens_!”

 

A great, black dragon is rearing in front of him and jet of fire bursts forth from its mouth… 

 

Ron spins him round and round on the dance floor at the Yule Ball and when he stops, Harry crashes into his chest with a laugh…

 

He averts his eyes from a muggle poster of a naked woman and blushes in embarassment and Sirius snickers next to him and asks cheekily, _”Definitely gay, then?”_

 

Remus’s strong arms are around him, holding him up, holding him together; Harry can feel the growl grow inside the man’s chest even before it escapes his mouth and he burrows even deeper into the embrace; suddenly he’s lifted off the ground completely and his daddy is carrying away from the Stadium… 

 

He falls forward onto all fours in the middle of a circle of masked wizards, snickering and taunting him… Voldemort steps out of the shadows and smirks down at him coldly… Pain is coursing through his body in relentless currents, growing steadily in intensity until it’s obliterated any fear or anger he might have had, until he can’t even think anymore; his entire existence is narrowed to a fine point and that point is _pure pain_ …

 

” _Noooo!_ ”

 

When his surroundings regain their focus around him, Harry is once again kneeling on the floor and this time he feels like his brain itself has been battered and brusied from someone trying to physically remove it from his skull and his chest is tight, his lungs squeezed together and he has to gasp for breath.

 

He can hear Professor Snape let out a disgruntled sigh above him and forces himself back on his feet, but his legs are shaking uncontrollably under him and it takes all of his strength to remain upright. Cold sweat is running down the sides of his face and he’s panting desperately. 

 

” _You are not focusing_ ”, Snape says through clenched teeth, a single drop of sweat trailing down one of his temples. 

 

”I’m — trying —” Harry gasps. 

 

Snape huffs out another sigh. 

 

”Let’s try again”, he says. 

 

”No — wait —”

 

” _Harry_! You are allowing me access to memories you fear, just handing me weapons against you! What kind of match do you imagine you would be for the Dark Lord, when you wear your heart on your sleeve like this?”

 

”I — I —”

 

”Unless you learn to control your emotions, he will penetrate your mind with _absurd_ ease!”

 

”I — I don’t — know — _how_!”

 

”Well, figure it out!” Snape snarls. ”We’re trying again! Now, get ready! _Legilimens!_ ”

 

Harry recoils in fear as the pink-haired witch suddenly grows a beak and lurches forward, about to strike…

 

He’s running through the woods, his heart lodged in his throat and Narcissa Malfoy’s nails cutting into his wrist…

 

He lands on the Quidditch pitch with such force it knocks the wind out of him and the Triwizard Cup flies out of his hand and tumbles to the side; a roar of cheers and applause rises from the stands, but quickly morphs into screams and worried murmurs; he crawls over to Krum’s dead body, to assure himself that he managed to bring it back…

 

A Dementor comes gliding towards him and he collapses on the ground, feeling like all the pain in the world has settled into his limbs and frozen his veins; somewhere in the darkness a woman screams, _”No! Please! Not Harry!”_

 

He’s standing with Sirius in a lift that clangs to stop and a witch’s voice announces _”Level Nine: The Department of Mysteries”_ and Sirius hurriedly steers him out into a corridor lined with black tiles and lit with torches… Sirius says he won’t be a second and Harry grumbles, ”Fine. I’ll just stand here and wait then” and watches sourly as Sirius disappears through the door at the end of the corridor…

 

”I know! I KNOW!”

 

Harry is on all fours on the floor and his scar is prickling with pain, but it’s a sense of pure triumph that wells up inside of him, because finally — _finally_ — he remembers where he’s seen that blasted door that he keeps dreaming about!

 

He pushes himself to his feet and stands shaking in front of Professor Snape, catching his breath. Snape slowly lowers his wand. His face is shuttered, but his eyes are wary as he stares back at Harry. 

 

”What happened there, Harry?” he asks quietly. 

 

”Did — did I — d-d-do it?” Harry asks in surprise, feeling his earlier triumph settle comfortably into his stomach. 

 

”Did you do what?” Snape says slowly. 

 

”You know — b-block — y-you?” he pants. 

 

”… No”, Snape murmurs. ”I lifted the spell.”

 

Harry frowns, ”Why?”

 

”Why did you start shouting like you’d just won the Daily Prophet’s annual draw?” Snape retorts, narrowing his eyes. 

 

”Oh — ehm — well, I — I saw”, Harry mutters, rubbing his forehead absent-mindedly as the memory of the corridor and the door he’s been dreaming about for months flickers back into his mind. ”I mean, I remembered — that corridor — I’ve just realised—”

 

Harry trails off as another memory shoulders the first one aside and stretches out before his mind’s inner eye… he’s sliding over the tiled floor, his snake’s body twisting and coiling… Mr Weasley is sitting slumped against _that same door_ at the end of the corridor, sleeping, but wakes up when the snake approaches… Harry rears back and strikes… 

 

”Realised _what_?” Snape says sharply. 

 

Harry snaps his gaze back to him and registers the hard look in his eyes. 

 

”Er… just… that door…”

 

”What about it?” Snape snaps. 

 

”I never realised, until just now… I’ve seen it before, when I went with dad to his work in the summer. I mean, I had to wait outside, in that corridor, but… that’s the door to the Department Mysteries… and that’s where Mr Weasley was attacked by the snake, isn’t it? Sir?”

 

”That’s… none of your concern”, Snape mutters with a forced calm, negated sligthly by the agitated look in his eyes. 

 

”I’ve been dreaming about that corridor, and that door… for months…” Harry says, his heart hammering in his chest. ”Sir… why is Vol- er- the D-Dark Lord thinking about that door all the time? What’s in the Department of Mysteries that he wants to get to—?”

 

” _Enough!_ ” Snape barks. ”I think we’ll call it a night…”

 

 

Harry’s scar sears again and he rubs his forehead furiously, but nods. Shivering in the cool, damp dungeon air, he feels slightly nauseous and the idea of another round of this torturous foray into his memories is more than he can bear. 

 

”But I want you back here on Wednesday night, same time”, Snape adds. ”We’ll continue where we left off then.”

 

”Wednesday, Sir? I thought you said these lessons would be once a week—?”

 

”I did”, Snape says swiftly, sinking down in his chair. ”And now I’m saying twice a week. In the meantime, I want you to rid your mind of all emotions every night before sleep; empty it, make it blank and calm, do you understand?”

 

”Yeah, all right…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”And I will know if you haven’t”, Snape adds. 

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

His head is still aching when he joins Draco and their friends in the Common Room and he feels almost feverish. 

 

”How was it?” Draco asks, tearing his attention away from his books when Harry sinks down on the sofa next to him. ”Harry? Are you okay?”

 

”Yeah — no — I don’t feel too great”, Harry mumbles, clutching his head with one hand and squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

He feels Draco’s arm curl around his shoulders and gratefully leans into him. 

 

”Was it very difficult?”

 

”Yeah, no… try ’impossible’”, Harry mutters wryly, rubbing his forehead against the other boy’s collar bone with the hopes of relieving some of the pain and feels the blonde plant a kiss in his nest of hair.

 

They sit like that for a while, Harry snuggled into Draco’s side while the blonde continues chatting to Pansy and Daphne. But when Harry’s headache keeps intensifying, to the point where he’s beginning to feel sick, he pulls away from Draco again. 

 

”I think I’ll just go to bed”, he mumbles. 

 

”Okay”, Draco says soothingly, rubbing his arm a few times. ”You want me to go ask Professor Snape for a Pain Potion?”

 

”No, that’s okay… I’m sure if I just get some sleep, I’ll feel better…”

 

”Okay, if you’re sure…”

 

Harry begins to nod, but stops himself when the movement makes the ache worse. He’s barely made it to the dorm when his head is split open and he collapses on the floor outside the dorm, convulsing as waves of pain roll through him and he curls up and retches miserably, vaguely aware of voices calling his name before he passes out, but just before the darkness claims him, amidst the intolerable pain, he’s absurdly filled with a sense of _pure joy —_

 

He gasps for breath and feels hands on him, grabbing him and pulling him up to sitting, wiping his sweaty hair from his face, just as a dawning sense of dread begins to fill him; _Something good has just happened,_ he thinks and he feels his blood run cold as the different possibilities of what could make the Dark Lord _that happy,_ that _triumphant_ starts to play out in his mind…

The next morning, he gets his answer as he settles down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for breakfast and a barn owl delivers Draco’s copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry knows it’s bad, even before he sees the front cover, because all the colour drains from the blonde’s face. 

 

Feeling the bottom plummet out of his stomach, Harry cranes his neck and stares down at the ten portraits crammed together on the front page of the paper and feels the bottom of his stomach plummet. One portrait in particular catches his eye. It’s of a woman and both her beauty and her crazed grin are eye-catching enough in their own rights, but what draws Harry’s gaze to her is neither of those things, but the pang of recognition. He’s seen this woman before. Not in real life — although it felt real enough — but in one of Dumbledore’s memories in the Pensieve. It’s Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch Death Eater who was convicted along with Barty Crouch Jr. and one more Death Eater for the torture of two Order members. 

 

Harry swallows thickly as he stares into the the heavy-lidded, cold eyes in the photograph; He remembers those eyes most of all and the way she didn’t even bat one of them when the jury handed out the verdict. Barty Crouch Jr. had sobbed and screamed as the Dementers dragged him away, but this woman… Bellatrix Lestrange… had stood tall and proud as she proclaimed that her Master, the Dark Lord, would return and reward her for her faitful service… Harry shivers, and tearing his eyes away from the photograph finally, he stares at the headline above: _”Mass Breakout from Azkaban”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might need to add another chapter.


	41. Hearts & Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notice announcing the dates of the Hogsmeade visits of the term appears on their house noticeboard, stuck rather pointedly on top of the latest Educational Decree so that it’s obscuring Umbridge’s name, and Draco nudges Harry, nodding towards it. 
> 
> ”Next Hogsmeade visit is on the fourteenth”, he says. "Of February."

 

A heavy silence settles over the Slytherin table. Most of the students return to their breakfasts tensely and try to pretend like nothing is out of the ordinary. Harry can see Crabbe and Goyle exchange a meaningful look before huddling over their plates as usual, but it’s impossible to tell whether the tension in their shoulders is holding them back from bolting or leaping up in celebration. 

 

Harry feels a shiver pass through him and quickly hugs himself. In the seat next to him, Draco is unconsciously dragging his fingertips over the lower edge of the newspaper, his eyes staring unfocused at the headline. Harry frowns down at the cackling portrait of Bellatrix Lestrange and shivers again. He wishes Draco would just fold the paper up already, if he’s not going to read it… as if hearing his thoughts, Pansy leans in and whispers to Draco, ”Aren’t you going to see what the article says?”

 

Draco gives an involuntary headshake, but opens the paper up nontheless. They all lean over to read, but Harry stops almost immediately. He feels rather sick. 

 

No-one has ever escaped from Azkaban prison before. It’s meant to be impenetrable — going in _or out_ , without permission!

 

He remembers sitting in a similar place along this table five years and a lifetime ago, staring at another copy of the _Prophet_ , stunned with a similar reaction. That time, it was vault in Gringott’s that had been broken into. Another impenetrable place. He knows now that it had been Voldemort who broke in to that vault, even if he was possessing Quirrell at the time. And if there was any doubt in Harry’s mind who broke these Death Eaters out of prison, that connection would surely convince him. 

 

Glancing over at the others’ faces to gauge their reactions to the article, Harry can’t help but wonder how the Ministry is going to be able to deny it. _Or maybe they won’t,_ he thinks. _Maybe they’ll finally come out and say what everyone already knows, or at least expects. That he’s back._

 

”When is that little toad going to resign…” Seamus mutters. 

 

_I guess not,_ Harry thinks dully. 

 

”Not one word about Him, or Harry…” Blaise says in a level voice. ”I’m surprised the _Prophet_ thinks they can get away with that. Surely people will start putting two and two together now…”

 

”Don’t count on it”, Pansy mutters, ripping the paper away from Draco and shaking it open to continue reading the article on the next page. ”… _’On no accounts should any of these individuals be approached’ —_ that’s the understatement of the century. Imagine encountering Antonin Dolohov in Knockturn Alley…”

 

Draco’s body lurches subtly, as if trying to get him to shake out of his stupor and leave, but he quickly conceals the impulse by reaching for the coffee pot and pours himself another cup. Harry notices that his hands are shaking. Pansy’s hazel eyes have flitted away from the paper to fix on the blonde’s hands as well, narrowing as some drops of coffee spill over the rim of the cup and pepper the pale skin of his hand. But she, like Harry, says nothing about it. Instead she begins to skim the other articles in the _Prophet_ , sighing at one in particular before folding the paper again with a look of disgust.

 

”This is useless”, she mutters. ”Why am I even reading it… Draco, why don’t you cancel your prescription already?”

 

”Can I have a look?” Harry asks, a sense of foreboding settling into the pit of his stomach. 

 

”Don’t know why you’d want to…” Pansy mutters, but tosses the paper sideways along the table. 

 

It lands between Harry’s porridge bowl and Draco’s plate, one drooping corner poking a piece of toast and steadily darkening as it soaks up the melted butter. Some of the colour returns to Draco’s face as he frowns at it, before pulling his plate away. 

 

Harry opens the paper up again and starts to skim through it, looking for… _something_ … _it must have been something, for Pansy to sigh like that,_ he thinks, scanning the headlines with trepidation. The girl sighs again, but this time it’s more of an annoyed huff. 

 

”Page seventeen”, she says curtly. 

 

Harry shoots her a look, then flicks the pages a little quicker until he gets to seventeen and spots the headline: ” _Tragic demise of Ministry of Magic worker”_

 

His heart seems to stop inside his chest as he’s seized by panic. _Not dad —?_

 

He searches the article text frantically until the name _Broderick Bode_ jumps out at him and he sags with relief. 

 

_But wait —_ Bode? _— he works with dad, in —_

 

_In the Department of Mysteries!_

 

Scanning the article again, now almost eagerly, Harry learns that Bode had been injured in a _workplace accident_ and taken to St Mungo’s, where he tragically died due to _another accident_ … strangled by a potted plant, of all things! 

 

_”… a spokeswizard for the hospital said in a statement, ’St Mungo’s deeply regrets the death of Mr Bode, whose health was improving steadily prior to his tragic accident. We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards, but it appears that Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr Bode’s bedside table. As his speech and mobility improved, Healer Strout encouraged Mr Bode to look after the plant himself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting of Devil’s Snare which, when touched by the convalescent Mr Bode, throttled him instantly… St Mungo’s is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward.’…”_

 

Harry sits back again. _Who gives someone a potted Devil’s Snare for Christmas? Unless…_

 

”Come on, let’s go…” Draco says quietly.

 

Harry glances over to him, but the blonde isn’t looking at him but staring with an unreadable expression over at the Gryffindor table. Harry follows his line of sight, expecting to see one of the Weasleys, or maybe Granger (the blonde has become more and more obsessed with that girl, or rather her prospective O.W.L. results) but is instead surprised to see Longbottom, hunched over a plate of bacon and eggs, glancing around him nervously. Harry looks around as well and he can tell why the plump Gryffindor is looking so uncomfortable. At least a handful of students are whispering and throwing furtive glances his way and a couple of them are even outright pointing in his direction. 

 

Then Harry remembers. Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband were sentenced to Azkaban for torturing a couple called Longbottom. _They must be related_ … a second memory filters into Harry’s early morning mind and it’s the time in Third Year when someone told him that Longbottom’s Boggart had turned into Professor Snape, and in order to get rid of it, Harry’s daddy had instructed him to picture it wearing his grandmother’s clothes — _that’s right,_ Harry thinks now. _Longbottom lives with his grandmother. So… that couple that Bellatrix tortured until they lost their minds, they must have been his parents…_

 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles, getting to his feet. ”Let’s get out of here.”

 

”The Ministry might still have their heads stuck in the ground like a herd of Dugbogs”, Pansy comments idly, while they make their way towards their first lesson of the day, with a sly look at a group of Hufflepuffs huddled together in the Entrance Hall. ”But at least some of _them_ are starting to wizen up…”

 

Harry glances over at the group of Hufflepuffs and notice them all staring back at him, their whispered conversation rising in volume and speed so that they sound like a beehive. Harry is used to people whispering about him, of course. Has even managed to block it out for the most part. But there’s a slightly different tone to the whispers now, he notices. And the looks thrown his way, too. They’re more curious now, rather than scared or accusatory, or taunting which has become the new norm ever since the _Daily Prophet’s_ smear campaign against Dumbledore (and by extension, Harry) that started in the summer.

 

”Obviously the _Prophet’s_ version of events isn’t adding up, so now they’re starting to doubt what they’ve been saying all along…” Pansy adds drily. 

 

”Sir”, Seamus says, thrusting his hand into the air during their Potions lesson the next day. ”Do you think there’ll be any more breakouts from Azkaban?”

 

Twenty-seven worried pairs of eyes swivel from the Irish boy to the Potions Master stood at the front of the classroom, looming over them all like an oversized bat and scowling in irritation at having been interrupted when instructing them to get started on their Wiggenweld Potions.

 

”I’m afraid the newest Decree prevents me from answering any questions unrelated to potions…” he says slowly, voice devoid of feeling but his eyes darkening further. 

 

A collective sigh rises from the class and the students exchange glum looks with one another. Professor Snape’s scowl darkens and he taps the black board pointedly with the tip of his wand, which emits a couple of involuntary, angry sparks. 

 

” _The instructions are on the board_ ”, he repeats slowly, each consonant sharp enough cut. 

 

His mood doesn’t appear to have improved when Harry joins him in his office later that evening, rather the opposite. Nor does it improve during the lesson. If anything, it darkens with every dip into Harry’s mind when Harry repeatedly fails to expel him. 

 

Harry had hoped that he would get used to occluding the more he tried it, and get better at it. But it seems the opposite is true in this case as well. It seems to get harder and harder to force Professor Snape out of his mind again once the man has delved in, and it also gets harder and harder to endure the experience of having him in there. By his third attempt, Harry’s head is pounding worse than ever and he is shivering violently from the cold sweat coating his skin. 

 

He struggles to get back up on his feet after having collapsed on all four for the third time, but his knees buckle under him and he falls back down. 

 

”I’m not feeling too well”, he admits.

 

”Get up”, Snape snaps. ”You are not trying hard enough!”

 

”I am”, Harry snaps back. ”Sir.”

 

”I said, _get up!_ ”

 

Harry struggles to his feet, his legs shaking under him but he manages to straighten up. Professor Snape is watching him with worried eyes, but he raises his wand again. Harry swallows thickly and tries to focus, but the wand pointed at his chest is now swimming in and out of focus and his scar is searing. 

 

”I… I don’t think….” 

 

”Wand at the ready”, Snape’s stony voice reaches him as though from a great distance. ”We will try again.”

 

”I don’t think… I can…” Harry mumbles, feeling the blood drain from his face and his arms go numb. 

 

The next thing he knows, he’s lying on his back on the cold stone floor and Professor Snape’s worried face is looming over him. Something slaps against the side of his face suddenly, jostling him out of his sluggish stupor and he blinks some of the cobwebs from eyes and glares up at the Potions Master. 

 

”Get up—”

 

” _Seriously?_ ” Harry splutters incredulously. 

 

”Get. Up.” Snape says coldly. 

 

Harry feels firm hands grab his arms and then he’s hoisted up to sitting. 

 

”Drink this”, Snape adds and thrusts a cup into his face. 

 

”What—” Harry jerks back, glaring at the foul-smelling potion. 

 

” _Just drink it!_ ” the man snarls impatiently.

 

He grabs the back of Harry’s head, tipping the contents of the cup into his mouth and Harry gags, spluttering at the foul taste. Snape gives him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t force any more of the potion into Harry’s mouth, just lets go of his head again and pulls away. 

 

Harry watches him sweep across the office to put the half-empty cup down on a shelf full of potion phials in different colours. He pulls a face as the horrid taste of dirt and rotten eggs that lingers in his mouth, but at the same time he feels most of the ache disperse from his head. 

 

”Thanks”, he mumbles and pushes to his feet, relieved to feel his legs steady under his weight again. 

 

”You’re welcome”, the Potions Master mutters. ”How are you feeling?”

 

”Better. Thanks… I’m ready to go again”, he adds. He raises his wand and plants his feet squarely apart, steeling himself. 

 

But Snape just throws him another unimpressed look and swoops down in his chair behind the desk. 

 

”Sit down”, he says curtly. 

 

”No, really. I’m fine to go agai—”

 

” _Sit_. _Down_.”

 

Harry’s shoulders slump with defeat and he shuffles over to the other chair. Snape is once again watching him with that unreadable expression on his face, his narrowed, dark eyes glittering and Harry feels a prickle behind his eyes, as if his mind is being invaded again. But he figures it’s probably just his imagination. 

 

”Have you been emptying your mind every night before bed?”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. 

 

He meets the man’s eyes dead on, willing him to believe him. For once, he’s actually been doing what he’s been told, yet he’s still not improving and he doesn’t want Snape to think that is because he’s lying to him about doing his exercises.

 

Professor Snape sighs and looks down at his clasped hands on top of the desk. Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach. Either his Head of House thinks he is lying, _or_ he thinks he’s completely hopeless and incompetent — and Harry doesn’t know which is worse, but he definitely knows that he doesn’t want Snape to give up on him! 

 

As horrible as these Occlumency lessons have proved to be, if Dumbledore and Snape, and Harry’s dads, all think needs to learn this, if they think Voldemort might try and possess him and this is his only chance to avoid it, then he wants Snape to teach him. Even Remus said that if he had to have private lessons in Occlumency, then he’d want Professor Snape to teach him. 

 

”Please, Professor…” he says and the man’s eyes immediately dart back up to meet his. ”I swear I’m trying my best—”

 

”I know that”, Snape says quietly. ”Harry, don’t think — I didn’t mean —” He trails off with a sigh and glares down at his hands again. ”I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry. When you managed to expel me on your first try, however belatedly, I thought — but it’s only your second lesson and you’re only fifteen, I shouldn’t have pushed you so far, so soon… keep emptying your mind before bed, like you have been, and next lesson we’ll… we’ll try again. Okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry mumbles, feeling like a failure despite the professor’s reassurances. 

 

Toadface’s momentary triumph at having put Hagrid on probation has clearly been squashed by the current crisis at the Ministry. The escaped Death Eaters is the new favourite topic of conversation at Hogwarts and not just among the students, but the teachers as well, who can often be seen congregating in hallways, speaking in hushed voices until they spot approaching students. Harry figures they can’t speak freely in the staff room anymore, with Umbridge being there. Something that’s surely added to her grief as well. 

 

Draco, on the other hand, seems very eager to steer everyone’s conversation back to Hagrid’s probation. Not only is he excited about the half-giant’s imminent degradation back to gamekeeper, but he’s almost as keen as Longbottom to avoid the topic of the escaped Death Eaters. 

 

Harry thinks back to his day at Grimmauld Place in the summer, when Sirius showed him the tapestry with Black Family Tree embroidered on it and pointed out the sisters Bellatrix and Narcissa to him, one connected to Rodolphus Lestrange and one to Lucius Malfoy, and connected to the latter by a thin golden thread, had been Draco himself. Harry isn’t sure if Draco knows that he knows about this family connection and he’s not sure how to tell him either. 

 

But one thing is for sure, Malfoy Manor might have been safe at Christmas, but it certainly isn’t a safe place anymore.

 

*

 

The notice announcing the dates of the Hogsmeade visits of the term appears on their house noticeboard, stuck rather pointedly on top of the latest Educational Decree so that it’s obscuring Umbridge’s name, and Draco nudges Harry, nodding towards it. 

 

”Next Hogsmeade visit is on the fourteenth”, he says. 

 

Harry glances over at the noticeboard as well and nods, as he sinks down on the loveseat next to Draco. He’s yet to ask the blonde if he wants to tag along to his dads’s but the visit is a whole month away, so he’s got plenty of time —

 

”Of February”, Draco adds. 

 

Harry wheels his head back around and frowns at the other boy. His eyesight may be bad, but the noticeboard is only a few feet away. Does Draco think he can’t read anymore?

 

”Yeah…” he says slowly.  

 

”Want to… go? Together, I mean?”

 

”What?”

 

”To Hogsmeade”, Draco ducks his head and grabs a book from his book bag on the floor and then begins to read casually, the subtle pink in his cheeks the only thing revealing that he might not be as unconcerned as he appears. 

 

”Well, yeah…” Harry says slowly. ”But, actually, my daddy said to ask you if you wanted to come over for lunch—”

 

Draco’s head snaps back up.

 

”Really?”

 

”Yeah. If you want…”

 

”Hey guys, did you see the new notice?” Pansy says, flopping down in the armchair next to them and twirling a lock of hair around her well-manicured finger. ”Next Hogsmeade visit is on Valentine’s Day… wonder which romantic amongst the teachers who decided on _that_ date… I’m sure it wasn’t _Umbitch_ —”

 

_Valentine’s—_

 

Harry’s snaps his eyes back to Draco, feeling his face flush. 

 

”Oh — shit — I — I didn’t think —” he stammers. ”We don’t have to have lunch with my dads—!”

 

”No, no, I want to”, Draco says hurriedly. ”Really. I don’t mind, at all—”

 

”Spending Valentine’s Day with your _in-laws_ ”, Pansy coos. ”Wow, _Draco_ —!”

 

”Pansy”, Draco snaps, with a warning look thrown in the girl’s direction, but she simply smirks back. 

 

”Are you sure?” Harry says. ”Because we can go next Hogsmeade visit, if you want to do something else? Just the two of us? My dads won’t mind! I completely forgot what day it was—”

 

”Harry”, Draco says gently. ”I would love to have lunch with your dads. We can do something just the two of us after. We have all day.”

 

”Okay… if you’re sure…” 

 

Despite Professor Snape’s reassurances to the contrary, Harry feels like he’s getting worse at occluding with every passing lesson. His scar, which would only prickle every once in a while before, usually at night when he’d had a nightmare, or on those rare occasions when he’d caught a glimpse of Voldemort’s thoughts or a flash of his mood (as he now knows them to be), now hardly ever stops prickling. And more and more often he’ll be walking along a hallway between classes, or lounging around the Common Room or Library with his friends, when he’ll feel a sudden lurch of emotion (usually anger or annoyance, but sometimes cheerfulness too) that has nothing to do with whatever he’s feeling at the time, and those moments are always followed by a very painful twinge in his scar as well.

 

What’s worse, is that he now dreams of walking down that corridor outside the Department of Mysteries every single night, with a feeling of building excitement and longing that leaves him feeling extremely frustrated when he wakes up, after having stood staring at the door for what always feels like hours. He almost wishes the door would open, just for the variety of it. But also, because that’s what he longs for in the dream. 

 

”It sounds like the lessons are prying your mind open”, Blaise comments lightly one evening, his sharp eyes glittering in a way that lets Harry knows that by _lessons_ , he means _Professor Snape_. ”And since you’re no good at closing your mind—”

 

”Yet”, Draco cuts sharply, his arms tightening around Harry’s shoulders in some show of support and Harry smiles.  

 

”—Yet”, Blaise repeats with an appeasing nod towards the blonde. ”It _stays_ open…”

 

”Yeah”, Harry nods. ”I’ve been thinking that, too…”

 

”Have you told Professor Snape?” Draco asks. 

 

”Yeah, I have. But he just tells me to close my mind…” Harry sighs in frustration. ”I don’t know. He’s a brilliant teacher in Potions, because when you’re brewing, it _is_ that simple, you know? — ’my Potion is the wrong colour, dice your Mandrake Root into finer pieces’ — you know, simple. But in Occlumency…”

 

”It’s more like, ’I can’t close my mind, close your mind’…” Pansy supplies with a smirk. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says heavily. 

 

”Well, to be fair, it sounds like one of those things that is really hard to describe how to do”, Draco murmurs hesitantly. ”Like breathing.”

 

”What do you mean?” Harry frowns. 

 

”Well, imagine I started choking suddenly…”

 

”No thanks”, Harry mutters and Draco’s lips twitch. 

 

”No, really… imagine I started going like _this_ …” 

 

He pulls his arm away from around Harry’s shoulders and begins to clutch his throat and gasp rather convincingly.

 

”Stop it, it’s not funny—” Harry complains. 

 

Draco just shakes his head and begins to flop his hands desperately, miming _’can’t breathe’_ between his realistic wheezing gasps. 

 

Pansy, never one to back down, immediately joins in and clutches Harry’s arm in a bruising grip. 

 

”He can’t breathe”, he squeals and fixes Harry with a tearful look. 

 

Harry glares at the girl, feeling more and more unsettled as he watches the drama unfold itself in front of him. 

 

”This isn’t funny—”

 

” _Harry!_ ” she shouts, shaking his arm. ” _He. Can’t. BREATHE—!_ ”

 

”Who can’t breathe?” Zoe Accrington, the Head Girl, calls out from across the Common Room, but Blaise waves her off with a reassuring smile. 

 

Draco lurches forward, clasping the front of Harry’s robes desperately and even though he knows it’s all pretend, Harry feels his pulse quicken. 

 

”Harry, help him!” Pansy urges. 

 

”I…”

 

”HELP HIM!”

 

”Okay!” Harry exclaims, feeling cold sweat begin to break out along his hair line. ”Er — just — ehm —”

 

Draco sucks in a shuddering half-breath, fisting the front of Harry’s robes as his whole body begins to spasm as if he’s having a seizure. 

 

”Breathe!” Harry shouts. ”Just — _breathe in_ —!”

 

Draco’s frighteningly accurate display is suddenly cut short as he begins to snicker. He lets go of Harry’s robes again and falls back against armrest, giggling loudly. Harry glares at him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. 

 

”Wow, remind me never to choke around you, Harry…” Pansy says drily, but her voice trembles with a suppressed chuckle. 

 

”What is going on ever there?” Zoe Accrington demands from the other side of the Common Room.

 

”Nothing, we’ll keep it down!” Pansy calls back. 

 

”You’re scaring the First Years!” Zoe calls back sternly. 

 

”Sorry!” Pansy and Draco calls out, then Draco turns back to Harry with a grin. ”But I believe I’ve made my point…”

 

”Never make a point ever again”, Harry retorts. 

 

As January draws to a close, the Semi-permanent Sticking Charm on the mandrake leaf comes off and Harry gently plucks the leaf from under his tongue before brushing his teeth, then spends the rest of the morning swirling his tongue around in his mouth, feeling like something is missing. 

 

Towards the end of breakast, Hedwig brings him a sugar quill and a note from Sirius that simply says, _”Suck on this — it’ll help!”_

 

”Doesn’t he think there’s anything around here for you to suck—?” Seamus comments with a leering grin, wagging his eyebrows at Harry. 

 

Draco chokes into his juice goblet mid-sip and then begins to splutter and cough, even as he laughs along with the other boys, his eyes tearing up. Harry and the girls are the only ones not laughing, Daphne opting for a groan instead and Pansy calling Seamus _gross_ , while Harry simply glares at them all and willing his blush to subside. 

 

He feels Draco’s hand rub across his shoulders and shoots him a half-hearted glare. The blonde gives him a look of compassion, but still chuckles helplessly. 

 

”Don’t know why _you’re_ laughing”, Harry grumles under his breath.

 

”Oh, come on…” Draco murmurs cajolingly. ”It was just a _joke_ …” 

 

”Isn’t it _your_ parents who wants you to be discreet?” Harry gripes back, but even as he says it he feels bad for bringing it up and when the laughter fades from the blonde’s glittering eyes he reaches out and touches his leg under the table. ”Sorry. I didn’t mea—”

 

”It’s okay”, Draco says quickly, his smile returning just as suddenly as it had flickered away. ”You’re right… but say what you will about Toadface, at least she’s managed to keep Rita Skeeter off the premises…”

 

”What do you mean?” Harry says in surprise. 

 

”Haven’t you noticed? Skeeter’s not writing about you in the _Prophet_ anymore—”

 

”She’s not writing for the _Prophet_ , full stop”, Pansy cuts in and nods towards Draco. ”I thought maybe your parents finally got her sacked…”

 

”No”, Draco shakes his head. ”At least, I don’t think so…”

 

*

 

To Harry’s immense surprise (and Draco’s ire), Ginny Weasley approaches the table where he and Draco are studying in the library one day and asks him how he’s been. Harry is struck by how much the girl has changed, not just physically — because she’s definitely grown taller and lankier, like her brother Ron — but she actually looks him straight in the eye, which she’s never done before, and there isn’t even a hint of red in her face either. 

 

”Er… yeah, good…” he says, nodding awkwardly. ”Ehm, what about you?”

 

”Good, thanks”, the girl says happily. ”Have you got any plans for the weekend? You know, there’s a Hogsmeade visit on Saturday—”

 

Harry feels his face flush slightly and instinctively tenses up, readying himself to intervene should Draco suddenly attempt to hex the girl, which, judging by the thunderous look in the blonde’s face, is looking more and more likely… 

 

”I’m asking for Hermione”, the Weasley girl says quickly, glancing over at the blonde as well and realising she may have stepped on some toes. 

 

”Granger?” Harry says, feeling even more at a loss. ”Why?”

 

”She needs to talk you, but it can’t be at the school… Umbridge, you know…”

 

”If this is about that secret Defence group again…”

 

”No, it’s not about that”, Ginny assures him. ”It’s about what happened last summer…” 

 

Harry stares at her, but she just shakes her head and looks around rather doggedly. 

 

”Look, I can’t say any more here… just meet Hermione in the _Three Broomsticks_ on Valentine’s Day—”

 

”Yeah, that’s likely!” Draco snarls. 

 

”It’s not like that, I promise!” Ginny says in exasperation. ”You guys have a date, I’m assuming? Well, go on your date, and then meet up with Hermione after? Malfoy, you can tag along, I’m sure Hermione won’t mind, and that way you’ll know it’s nothing like that, it’s… _It’s about You-Know-Who_ and it’s _important_ … Okay?”

 

”Okay”, Harry says, not knowing what else to say. 

 

”Okay”, Ginny repeats, looking extremely relieved. ”So I can tell Hermione you’ll be there? At Midday on Saturday?”

 

”Sure, I guess…” Harry mumbles. ”We’ll… We’ll be there…”

 

Ginny smiles happily and gives him a quick half-wave, before strolling back down the aisle. Harry watches her retreating back with a sense of foreboding and when she disappears around a bookcase he sighs and turns back to Draco. 

 

The blonde is clutching his head with both hands and growling quietly under his breath. 

 

”Ehm…” 

 

Harry reaches out a tentative hand, but before he can place it on Draco’s shoulder, the blonde springs up and Harry jerks his hand back again, startled. 

 

”We need to take a break!” Draco exclaims shrilly, gathering up his books with twitchy movements. 

 

”What”, Harry says, startled. 

 

His heart begins to pound in his chest and a layer of cold sweat breaks out in his face. _Draco wants to break up—?_

 

”We’ve been sitting here for too long. I can’t think anymore”, Draco continues in a rush, piling his books in a toppling pile and Harry sags with relief. ”The brain best retains information reviewed at the beginning and end of a session, so to best utilise one’s study time is to segment it, that way you increase your chances of remembering what you’ve read…” Harry shoots the other boy a glum glare. ”Harry? Are you even listening to me?”

 

”Yes…” he mutters and pushes to his feet. 

 

”Well, let’s go then! I can only afford to take a ten minute break, then I have to come back here…”

 

Harry rolls his eyes and straggles after him out of the library. He would suggest they simply stay in the library and stop studying for ten minutes, but he doesn’t really fancy having his head bitten off. 

 

He writes to his dads later that evening and tells them about the change of plans and asks if he and Draco can come by later in the afternoon instead. Draco is watching him, grumbling under his breath about the rudeness of changing lunch plans last minute. Harry rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. It’s _his_ parents, not Draco’s. And even if they did care about social etiquettes, they still wouldn’t mind.

 

”It’s just rude… and it’s extremely rude of Granger to suggest it in the first place… typical mu—” Harry shoots Draco a warning glare, and he corrects himself quickly. ”Muggleborn… what? They have different customs to ours!”

 

”So you should be understanding, then”, Harry retorts. 

 

”Well, I would be, yes”, Draco says bracingly. ”But she’s been living in our world for five years now and she’s a bloody information sponge, so she should _know_ —”

 

”Draco, just let it go…”

 

”I’m just saying! Who suggests a meeting with such short notice? And who suggests a meeting _on Valentine’s Day_ , with someone who _isn’t_ single and has probably planned a romantic outing? I mean, couldn’t it have waited until the next Hogsmeade weekend—?”

 

”Clearly it couldn’t”, Harry says exasperated. ”Which is the only reason I said yes! Do you really think I _want_ to see Granger on Valentine’s Day?”

 

Draco slumps a little and his earlier passion reluctantly simmers down to indignation. Harry gives him an expectant look. 

 

”What, that wasn’t a rhetorical questio—?”

 

”No”, Harry exclaims. ”It should have been. But you’re kicking up such a fuss about this, I’m actually worried now that you believe I don’t care!”

 

”No, no, I don’t believe that…” Draco murmurs quietly and peers up at Harry sheepishly from behind his long fringe. 

 

*

 

On the morning of the fourteenth, Harry slowly wakes up feeling warmer and cosier than he’s ever felt before, with something nuzzling the back of his neck. He stretches out languidly and is pleasantly surprised to find himself cocooned in a warm embrace with a solid chest pressed against his back. Surprised, because he didn’t go to sleep next to anyone, but clearly Draco has decided to crawl into his bed at some point during the night — or maybe just now, to wake him up. 

 

Harry stretches a little more and twists around inside the loose embrace, that loosens even more to allow him to turn onto his back. He squints up at the blurry outline of the other boy, who props himself up on his elbow and looks down on him. 

 

”Morning…” Harry murmurs thickly and smiles. 

 

”Morning…” 

 

The blonde blob becomes a little less blurry as Draco leans closer, then Harry lets his eyes flutter closed and tilts his head up to accept the kiss the other boy plants on him. He feels the palm of Draco’s hand caress his forehead as it moves the fringe from his face, before fisting it gently and pulling Harry’s head a little further back to deepen the kiss. 

 

Harry was already quite hard when he woke up, but now his cock swells into a full-on erection and twitches eagerly against the cotton confines of his pyjama bottoms. He moans into the kiss and reaches up to caress the side of Draco’s face, but the blonde slaps his hand away and interlaces their fingers together roughly, pressing Harry’s hand into the mattress. 

 

Draco’s other hand tightens its grip in his hair and pulls a little harder on it. Harry gasps as the sharp sting in his scalp triggers a series of pleasureable jolts to shoot through his body. Draco growls softly and begins to trail kisses down the length of his neck instead. Harry digs his heels into the mattress and bucks up against him, desperate for friction. 

 

Draco lets go of his hand and scrambles to grab Harry’s head with both hands, while positioning himself between his legs and sliding against him in long, firm movements. Harry’s eyelids flutter and he fists the sheet on either side of him, his heels slipping as he scrambles to meet the other boy’s thrusts. 

 

Suddenly Draco pulls away and sits back on his heels, pulling his pyjama top off and tossing it aside. Harry starts to sit up as well, but before he can the blonde has pushed him down once more, lapping the moans and whimpers from his mouth like he’s starved for them. 

 

Draco makes quick work of the drawstring in Harry’s pyjama bottoms and only shoves them down far enough to free his erection. Harry shivers pleasantly as the cool dungeon air hits his hot, sensitive skin and then nearly swallows his own tongue as he feels fingers wrap around his throbbing flesh so tightly it almost hurts. Almost. 

 

He fumbles to get Draco’s pyjama bottoms down as well, but with Draco basically still sitting, his bent legs shoved under Harry’s sprawled thighs, they just bunch at his waist. So instead Harry simply pushes his hand inside them and then, bending his arm at an awkward angle, he begins to pump the other boy’s cock, eagerly matching the rhythm of Draco’s own movements until he feels the other boy’s body curl up even tighter around him, trembling with tension. 

 

Draco bites down on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes his cock tightly in his fist. Harry swears and bucks up involuntarily as the steadily building pressure in his abdomen draws into a tight, hot ball that suddenly explodes, sending sparks of pleasure along his nerves. 

 

He relaxes back into the mattress, catching his breath. His fingers and toes are tingling and his crotch is throbbing. 

 

Draco goes limp against him, finally sprawling out, with his head pillowed on Harry’s chest and Harry raises heavy arms to hug the boy closer. 

 

”Your heart’s  — racing”, Draco pants. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry gasps, just as out of breath. 

 

”That was — really — quite something!”

 

”Yeah!”

 

When they’ve both caught their breaths, Draco props himself up again and pecks Harry on the nose. 

 

”Come on… we need to get going…”

 

”What’s the rush?” Harry mock-whines, but obediently sits up and reaches for his glasses. 

 

”Have you forgotten what day it is? Again?” Draco asks pointedly and Harry blushes. ”We have a date to get through before midday, so we better hurry!”

 

”That’s romantic…” Harry grumbles, peeling off his sweat-damp pyjama top. 

 

”I’m not the one who double-booked himse—”

 

”Don’t start”, Harry says sharply. 

 

”Fine. But hurry up — I want you to myself for at least an hour, before we have to go meet Granger!”

 

”You have me for yourself right now”, Harry points out, but speeds up his movements anyway. 

 

”Not the same”, Draco says with a dismissive hand wave in his direction. ”I want sit somewhere with hideous heart decorations and eat stuff that will rot my teeth while we hold hands and gaze stupidly into each other’s eyes—”

 

”Really?” Harry says sceptically. 

 

”Yes. I need another shower. You better be changed by the time I get back—”

 

”What do you mean, I’m coming too…” Harry says, grabbing his toiletry bag from his trunk. 

 

”Fine, I’ll wait”, Draco says in a long-suffering voice from the doorway. 

 

”I mean you don’t _have to_ …” Harry says teasingly, sidling up to him. ”But it _would_ make it easier for us to shower _together_ …”

 

”We are _not_ showering together. There isn’t time”, Draco says, leading the way out of the dorm. 

 

”Technically it would save time—”

 

”You know perfectly well what I mean…”

 

They’re the only boys in the communal bathroom, but Harry still keeps his hands to himself and showers quickly. He’s almost certain that Draco was joking about the heart decorations and holding hands in public, but he’s not so sure about the rest — so just in case, he tries to get ready as speedily as possible. 

 

However, he treats himself to some shameless leering when the other boy steps out of the shower and begins to dry himself off. The blonde is simply gorgeous, his body tall and lean, and ever since he started eating properly he’s gained some muscle definition in all the right places… it’s almost a shame to cover it up, Harry thinks. But he quickly changes his mind once Draco has squeezed into his casual clothes, that are so well-fitted they leave next to nothing to the imagination. 

 

”Are those… new?” he asks, aiming for casual but probably failing spectacularly. 

 

”Yeah. Christmas gift from mother”, Draco says happily, his eyes glinting with surprise. ”You like them?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from the other boy’s body. ”Remind me again why we can’t stay in bed all day?”

 

Draco rolls his eyes at him, but they glint with a warm kind if happiness and his lips twitch. But then the blonde glances into a nearby mirror discreetly and Harry spots a small but unmistakable doubt flare up and push the happy away. 

 

”You look stunning”, he says seriously. ”Let’s go to Hogsmeade, so I can show you off…”

 

”You don’t have to overdo it”, Draco mutters.

 

Harry simply smiles however because the doubt in the other boy’s eyes flickers out of existence again, at least for the time being and that’s all that matters. 

 

Despite their earlier… distractions, Harry is proud to see that they’re still two of the first students to queue up in front of Filch, mainly because Draco suggests they skip breakfast in the Great Hall and have it in town instead. When they exit the gates and start to make their way down the long, winding road into Hogsmeade, there isn’t another soul around as far as Harry can see… _Draco might have been joking earlier about holding hands in public,_ he figures. _But what harm will it do to try? In for a Knut…_

 

Harry reaches out and interlaces their fingers together. Draco gives him a startled look, then glances back over his shoulder quickly to make sure no-one is walking behind them. But he doesn’t pull away. 

 

The High Street is still empty of students, but the shops have opened. Harry doesn’t really fancy looking in any of them though, at least not before he’s had some breakfast. 

 

”Coffee?” Draco suggests lightly as if reading his mind and Harry whips his head around and smiles at him. ”Brews and Stews?”

 

”Really? I would have thought you’d want to go to Madam Puddifoot’s what with it being Valentine’s Day and all…” Harry says teasingly. 

 

Draco takes a deep breath and gazes down the High Street, eyes narrowed in mock-consideration. 

 

”How much do you want to bet she’s got giggling hearts floating all over the place?” Harry adds with a grin. 

 

”Sorry, but not even a bet will get me across that threshold again”, Draco says shaking his head. ”I went with Pansy once. The woman was insufferable. Kept coming over and making cooing noises… I’ve never been so embarassed in my life.”

 

”You went there with Pansy?” Harry asks casually, feeling a ghost of his old jealousy flare up inside his chest. ”When you and I were… you know… in Third Year?”

 

”Yeah, at the start of Third Year”, Draco nods, then catches himself and gives Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze. ”We just went as friends.”

 

Harry nods quickly, looking away. He suddenly comes face to face with a Wanted poster featuring the same ten portraits of the escaped Death Eaters that had been on the front cover of the _Prophet_ and frowns. Bellatrix Lestrange’s sneer seems to be even more taunting than when he’d seen her portrait last time. 

 

”Let’s make a compromise”, Draco says in a rather cheerful voice suddenly.

 

”Okay. What?” Harry asks. 

 

”This way…” 

 

Draco jerks his head and pulls Harry along, swinging their arms, until they reach a cosy teashop at the end of the main street. It’s got a moss green store front and some subtle Valentine’s Day decorations floating discreetly in the windows and the name of the teashop — _Rosa Lee Teabag_ — is written in big, swirly letters along the top of the window. Harry recognises it, but he’s never actually been inside before. The few times he and Draco have gone for coffee together, they’ve opted for _Brews and Stews Café_ , which also happens to be his dads’ café of choice. 

 

Draco pushes the door open and enters, pulling Harry along behind him. The teashop is quite small and cosy and Harry is happy to see that the rest of the shop is just as sparsely decorated as the front window. A few hearts are floating along the ceiling, emitting little noises like contented sighs but it’s not overbearing at all. 

 

Draco pulls him towards a small circular table at the back, where the light from the windows doesn’t quite reach, even though they’re the only couple in the teashop. If Harry were to hazard a guess, he’d say they’d only just opened because the shopkeeper, a wizard in his mid- to late thirties who appears at their table and greets them glumy before lighting the candle on their table and handing them a couple of menues, looks like he’s just rolled out of bed. Harry smiles and thanks him.

 

They order their breakfast and then spends a few moments commenting on the decor and the mood of their host, or rather Draco makes comments, most of them derisive, while Harry listens and grins like an idiot. 

 

”It’s nice though…” he says softly once they’ve received their food, glancing around.

 

”Sure, if you’re in the mood for bad service in a Spartan setting…” Draco agrees with a serious nod and Harry chuckles. ”But I suppose it’s rather cosy…”

 

It _is_ cosy, and so far quite private as well (the only other customer to have entered the teashop since they sat down is a witch in her late twenties, sipping black coffee from a massive mug while writing something on a piece of parchment trailing over the edge of her table), but that’s not the only reason Harry likes it. Although he would never admit it out loud, the main reason he likes it is because neither one of them have been here before, so there’s no history for either of them. 

 

_Not that we need a fresh start or anything,_ Harry thinks. _But this is our place now. Just ours._

 

”It is”, he responds to Draco a little belatedly and nods. ”I’m glad we came here.”

 

”Me too…”

 

They eat in companionable silence, making eyes at each other every once in a while. By the time they’ve finished their eggs, the parchment the witch by the window is writing on has reached the floor and is inching across the aisle between the two seating areas of the teashop, much to the shopkeeper’s annoyance when he has to step over it to collect Harry’s and Draco’s plates. 

 

Draco reaches out to grab Harry’s hand again on top of the table and then they sit sipping their coffees and chatting idly, keeping it light by steering clear of any uncomfortable subjects such as the escaped Death Eaters and Umbridge and yet, the atmosphere gets heavier and heavier the later it gets. Harry can’t make sense of it at first, but then he realises it’s the mysterious meeting with Granger in _The Three Broomsticks_ that is looming ever closer on the horizon and putting a damper on their conversation. 

 

Finally, Draco huffs in annoyance and pushes to his feet, saying they should just get it over with. Harry nods and stands up as well, while Draco makes his way to the cashier to pay for them both. Harry joins him at the front of the teashop, looping his Slytherin scarf securely around his neck as the blonde holds the door open for him. 

 

”Thanks…” he mumbles, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on the other boy’s mouth. 

 

Draco tenses up immediately, glancing around. Harry looks around as well. The High Street is milling with students now, peering into shop windows or messing around on the pavements, testing out their Zonko products. None of them seem to have noticed their kiss however. 

 

”Let’s get this over with then…” Harry sighs. 

 

It starts raining heavily as they make their way back up the High Street towards the _Three Broomsticks_ and they run the last of the way to avoid the worst of it. Draco is just about to grab the door handle, when the door swings open swiftly and they have to stagger back to avoid being mauled by a very morose-looking Hagrid. 

 

”Oh, hello, Harry”, the half-giant says glumly. ”And Malfoy. Happy Valentine’s Day…”

 

”Er…”

 

But before Harry can come up with an appropriate response, the large man has already pushed past them and is lumbering off down the street, his massive shoulders slooping. 

 

”Seriously…” Draco whispers, shaking his head. ”How is that oaf a teacher? I mean, seriously.”

 

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles, gazing at Hagrid’s retreating back. ”I feel kind of bad for him, though…”

 

Draco lets out an impatient _hm_ and urges him inside the pub with an insistent hand on his back. 

 

”I do, too”, he says and Harry shoots him a sceptical look. ”But that’s what I mean. He’s clearly not up to teaching and now with the probabation and everything, the pressure is obviously getting to him and affecting his gamekeeper duties as well — I mean, didn’t you see his face?”

 

Harry nods. He had also noticed the fresh cuts and bruises in Hagrid’s face. 

 

”It would simply be better for everyone, if Dumbledore demoted him”, Draco says reasonably. ”Hagrid, too.”

 

”Yeah, I guess you’re right… he was always happier when he was just taking care of the animals and stuff.”

 

”Exactly”, Draco nods. 

 

” _Harry! Harry, over here!_ ”

 

They wheel around to see Hermione Granger waving happily at them from a corner booth on the other side of the crowded pub. Draco ducks his head and raises his hand up to his forehead to hide some of his face,  grumbling something about Granger _keeping it down_. 

 

”Come on…” Harry says and leads the way through the crowd. 

 

When they reach the booth, Harry realises that Granger isn’t alone as he’d initially thought. Sitting next to her is the two people he’d least expect to see her having a drink with. Loony Lovegood, the Fourth Year Ravenclaw oddball, and a very haggard-looking Rita Skeeter. He blinks. 

 

”You’re early!” Granger exclaims happily, getting to her feet and making a move towards him as though intending to hug him, but Harry recoils and gives her a wary sort of wave instead. ”Thank you for coming — both of you!”

 

Draco grumbles something under his breath, but everyone ignores it. Harry gestures for him to slide into the seat next to Skeeter, so that he himself won’t have to sit too close to her and the blonde does without complaint, but shoots him a glare. 

 

The woman’s eyes are flitting between the two of them eagerly and Harry can see her reaching for her crocodile handbag, presumably to release that horrid quill from its confines, but he’s surprised to see her stop herself when Granger coughs rather pointedly. 

 

Skeeter looks worse for wear, Harry realises. Her hair that was a perfectly kempt mane of bouncy, blonde curls the last time he saw her now hangs lankly around her face. The scarlet paint on her two-inch talons is chipped and her winged spectacles are missing a couple of their fake jewels, as well. 

 

”What’s going on?” Harry asks Granger warily. 

 

”Little Miss Prissy here was just about to tell me when you arrived”, Skeeter says acidly, taking a large gulp of her butterbeer, her sly eyes sliding from Harry to Draco. ”So are the two of you official now? How does your family feel about that, Draco? Do they appr—?”

 

”We are not here to talk about anyone’s love life”, Granger snaps sourly. ”And if you keep asking about it, the deal is off.”

 

”What deal?” Skeeter snaps right back. ”You haven’t mentioned any _deals_. You just told me to turn up… oh, one of these days…”

 

”Yes, yes, one of these days you’ll be writing more horrible stories about us all, I’m sure”, Granger says loftily, shaking her massive, frizzy mane from her face with a haughty sniff. ”Find someone who cares, why don’t you?”

 

”They’ve run plenty of horrible stories about Harry without my help lately…” Skeeter retorts, then gives Harry another sideways look. ”How does that make you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstoo—?”

 

”Well, he feels angry, presumably!” Granger answers for him and Harry frowns. ”Who wouldn’t be? He’s told the Minister of Magic the truth, yet the Minister is too much of an idiot to believe him—”

 

”Ehm, Granger…” Harry mutters. 

 

”So you actually stick to it, do you, Harry?” Skeeter asks sharply. ”That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore’s been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness?”

 

”I wasn’t the sole the witness”, Harry snaps before he can stop himself. 

 

”Ah, yes… you also claimed that there were a dozen-odd Death Eaters present… care to tell me their names?”

 

”I don’t care to tell _you_ anything”, Harry snarls. 

 

”Well…” Granger says slowly. ”Harry… please hear me out, before you say anything… but I thought you might want to tell your side of the story, to the public, let them make their own minds up?”

 

”You want me to give an interview?” Harry asks incredulously. ”To her?”

 

”Yes, but listen — she wouldn’t be allowed to use a Quick-Quote Quill and you would have complete control over what she puts in the article before it gets published—”

 

” _Excuse me_ ”, Skeeter snarls. 

 

”—and it wouldn’t be the usual sensational tosh”, Granger ploughs on. ”It would be the true story. Your story. All the facts, exactly as you report them. What really happened that night. Who was there. What Voldemort looks like now — oh, get a grip of yourself”, she snaps at Skeeter, who jumped so badly at the mention of Voldemort’s name that she’d slopped half her butterbeer down her front. 

 

Granger throws her a napkin across the table with a contemptuous look and the witch begins to blot the front of her robes, while staring at Granger. Harry can tell there’s a hint of reluctant respect in her eyes now, that hadn’t been there before. 

 

”The _Prophet_ wouldn’t print it”, she says curtly. ”I’m sorry but, in case you hadn’t noticed, nobody believes his cock-and-bull story, they all think he’s delusional or worse, but… if you let me write the article from _that_ _angle_ …”

 

”No”, Granger says firmly. ”I think we’ve seen enough articles about Harry losing his marbles, don’t you?”

 

”But—”

 

”I want him to have the opportunity to tell the truth. _That’s_ the deal…”

 

”But there’s no market for a story like that”, Skeeter says impatiently.

 

”You mean the _Prophet_ won’t print it because Fudge won’t let them”, Granger retorts. 

 

Skeeter stills, eyeing the Gryffindor girl quietly. Harry can see the cogwheels turning in her head. Then suddenly she tosses the damp napkin aside and leans forward across the table, pinning Granger with a piercing look. 

 

”All right. Fudge is leaning on the _Prophet_. But it comes down to the same thing. They won’t print a story that shows Harry in a good light. Besides, nobody wants to read it. It’s against the public mood. This Azkaban breakout has got people worried enough as it is, they don’t want to hear about You-Know-Who being back as well.”

 

”So the _Daily Prophet_ exists to tell people what they want to hear?” Granger says with sarcastic smile and earns a cold glare back. 

 

”My dad thinks it’s an awful paper…” Loony Lovegood pipes up unexpectedly and everyone else around the table snap their heads around to look at her in surprise. 

 

The girl stops stirring her drink with her cocktail onion stick and pops the onion into her mouth, while pinning Rita Skeeter with her enourmous, proturberant eyes. 

 

”He says it only cares about selling copies, while he publishes important stories he thinks the public needs to know about. He doesn’t care about making money.”

 

Skeeter lets out a derisive huff. 

 

”I suppose your father runs some stupid little village newsletter, does he? Probably, _Twenty-five Ways to Mingle with Muggles_ and the dates of the next Bring and Fly Sale?”

 

”No”, Loony says lightly. ”He’s the editor of _The Quibbler_ —”

 

Harry swallows a groan and shoots the Ravenclaw girl a piteous look, while Skeeter lets out a snort so loud it attracts the attention of people sitting at nearby tables. When she starts disparaging the paper, Draco leans in to hiss in Harry’s ear, ”What are we even doing here?”

 

Harry sighs and gives him a small headshake, catching Granger’s eye when she looks between them worriedly.

 

”Look”, she says, straightening up. ”I just think the public deserves to hear the truth and you deserve to give your side of the story as well—”

 

”Weren’t you listening, girl?” Skeeter snaps. ”The _Prophet_ won’t publish it—!”

 

”No, but _The Quibbler_ will”, Granger says, glaring at the woman when she starts cackling. ”I know some people won’t take him seriously, but the _Daily Prophet’s_ version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it and I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn’t a better explanation of what happened, so if there’s an alternative story available, even if it is pubished in a —” she glances nervously at Loony. ”In a — well — an _unusual_ _magazine_ — I think they’d be rather keen to read it.”

 

”All right, let’s say for a moment I do this…” Skeeter says shrewdly. ”What kind of fee would I be getting?”

 

”I don’t think daddy exactly pays people for their stories”, Loony says dreamily. ”They do it because it’s an honour and to see their names in print…”

 

”I’m supposed to do this _for free_?” Skeeter splutters. 

 

”Yes”, Granger says simply. ”Otherwise I’ll inform the proper authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus—”

 

Harry blinks in surprise, looking between the Gryffindor girl and the scowling journalist. _So that’s why she’s stopped writing for the_ Daily Prophet, he thinks in wonder. _Granger has been blackmailing her — but how did she even find out Skeeter is an animagus?_

 

”The _Prophet_ might pay you rather a large fee for an insider’s account of life in Azkaban”, Granger adds, taking a sip from her drink. 

 

”Well”, Skeeter says sourly. ”Looks like I don’t have much of a choice, then.”

 

”No, it doesn’t look like you do”, Granger agrees pleasantly. 

 

”So why did you waste my time trying to convince me?” Skeeter snarls. 

 

”I wasn’t trying to convince _you_ …” Granger retorts, then glances over at Harry again, her face softening. ”Harry? What do you say?”

 

”I…” Harry hesitates, looking over at Draco for support. 

 

The blonde frowns uncomfortably, shrugging. 

 

”I don’t know… I think maybe I should talk to my dads first…”

 

”If I’m doing this”, Skeeter says loudly, wrenching her crocodile handbag open and digging around for a quill impatiently. ”I’m doing it _today_. I am _not_ coming back here on a different day — I do have a life, you know!”

 

Granger shoots her glare, but then turns back to Harry again with an apologetic look. 

 

”I think time is of the essence, Harry… if we wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend—”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says impatiently, rubbing his hands over his face. ”I get it… all right, then… let’s do it…”

 

Harry feels awkward talking about what happened that night again, especially with a crowd of cheerful people around him. Draco sitting next to him gives him mixed feelings, too. 

 

Mostly, his steady presence in Harry’s peripheral is comforting, as is the discreet way he places his hand on top of Harry’s thigh under the table. But at the same time, Harry is keenly aware that Draco’s father is one of the Death Eaters he’s expected to reveal the identities of now and if he does, it will have a massive impact on Draco’s life. 

 

And he can’t very well name the other Death Eaters and omit Lucius, just because he’s in a relationship with his son, either. 

 

He glosses over the arrival of the Death Eaters and skips to the duel with Voldemort, just like he’d done when he’d retold the story to his friends in the dorm the morning after it happened. But Rita Skeeter isn’t as forgiving as Harry’s friends. She pauses the frantic movement of her quill and pins him with sharp look. 

 

”And the identities of the Death Eaters?”

 

Harry swallows thickly. 

 

He wants to look over at Draco to gauge his reaction, but he knows that if he does, even if he doesn’t tell Skeeter a single name, she’ll put two and two together and she’ll know about Lucius… Draco’s hand on his thigh gives him a gentle squeeze and Harry takes a deep breath, rattling off the names in a rush. He saves Lucius for last, risking a quick look at Draco’s face before dropping it. The blonde gives him a minute nod of encouragement. 

 

Skeeter’s eyes are almost the same size as Loony Lovegood’s once it’s out of Harry’s mouth and they flit between him and Draco eagerly. Harry can picture the headlines composing themselves in her head… _Deranged By Trauma, The Boy Who Lived names Father In Law as Death Eater… The Chosen One Enamoured with the Son of a Death Eater… Forbidden Love at Hogwarts…_

 

Granger seems to be thinking the same thing, because gives another little cough and Skeeter shakes herself out of her thoughts. 

 

Once she’s got everything down, she packs up her notes and quill again and gives them all a curt nod of farewell, before striding out of the pub. Loony Lovegood trails after her, looking like she’s just drifted in by accident and is now making her way out again. 

 

Granger stands up as well, smiling at Harry and Draco both, ”I’ll let you get back to your date…”

 

Harry nods, then a thought strikes him, ”Hey, Granger… how’d you find out about Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus?”

 

”Oh”, the girl blushes slightly and smiles. ”I suspected she must have had a secret way of getting onto the school grounds after Dumbledore banned her, since she kept getting inside information for her articles… then I saw that bug flitting around your head that one time…”

 

_Bug_ , Harry thinks in surprise, the many memories of Granger acting strangely around him and the weird conversation he’d had with her in Grimmauld Place last summer flashing into his mind. 

 

”It was a long shot, but I just had a gut feeling — then I managed to catch her—”

 

”You — you _caught her?_ ”

 

”Yes, in the library”, Granger nods proudly. ”She can turn into a green beetle. I knew as soon as I had the beetle trapped that it was her, because it had black marking in the shape of glasses around its eyes… you know, like Professor McGonagall has when she turns into a cat?”

 

”A green beetle…” Harry murmurs, as another memory flickers into the forefront of his mind. ”I saw a green beetle on the window sill in the Divinations classroom, just before I had that vision that one time…”

 

”You did?” Draco says in surprise. 

 

”Yeah, that was her”, Granger nods. ”Anyway, when I didn’t find her on the Animagus registry, I knew she’d studied to become an animagus illegally. So I told her, unless she stopped writing her horrible stories for the _Prophet,_ I would turn her in!”

 

”Well… thanks”, Harry says awkwardly and holds his hand out to her with a blush. ”For all of it.”

 

Granger rolls her eyes at his outstretched hand, but grasps it with a smile. 

 

”You’re welcome, Harry… see you later…”

 

”How do you feel?” Harry asks Draco quietly as soon as they’re alone and the blonde gives a jerky shrug, frowning down at the table top. ”D’you… want to stay for a drink before we head over to mine?”

 

”Yeah, all right…” Draco mumbles. 

 

”I’ll get them”, Harry says quickly, sliding around the table to get out of the booth. ”Butterbeer okay?”

 

Draco nods. He’s still staring at the table top with a small frown on his face when Harry returns with the two flagons, and Harry watches him worriedly as he takes his first sip of butterbeer. 

 

”What do you think will happen now?” Draco asks finally, grabbing his own flagon.

 

”I don’t know”, Harry says truthfully. 

 

”Well. Whatever it is, it was probably inevitable…”

 

”I’m still sorry—”

 

”Don’t be”, Draco says immediately.

 

He takes a few large gulps of his butterbeer and Harry watches the way his throat works as he swallows them. They finish their drinks in silence, not a tense one exactly, but not as companionable as the one they’d shared in the teashop either. 

 

Harry finishes his drink first, so when Draco has drained the last dregs of his own butterbeer he pushes the empty flagon away and moves to push to his feet. Harry reaches out and puts a hand on his arm to stop him and he sinks back into his seat with a questioning look. 

 

”Before we go, I need to tell you something…”

 

”Okay… what?” Draco asks, eyeing him warily. 

 

”I need to tell my dads about Umbridge and the blood quill”, Harry admits and the blonde blinks in surprise. ”And I need to do it today, or Snape will tell them at half-term. But I’ll wait until it’s time for us to go back to Hogwarts and… and you can wait outside, if you want…”

 

”You haven’t told them about the blood quill?”

 

”No…” Harry sighs. ”I didn’t know how to bring it up…”

 

”Are they going to get really angry?” Draco frowns uncomfortably and Harry nods. ”With you as well? For not telling them sooner?”

 

”Maybe. But they probably won’t yell so much if you’re waiting for me outside…”

 

”Don’t be silly”, Draco shakes his head dismissively. ”I’m not going to go outside. I’ll stay with you.”

 

”You don’t have to—”

 

”I know. But I’m going to.”

 

It’s still raining quite heavily when they get outside and they start to jog side by side. When they get to the end of the High Street, and the thatched roof of Creirwy’s Hollow can be seen at the end of the smaller road up ahead, they sprint the rest of the way, lauging slightly. 

 

Harry’s dads are waiting to greet them just inside the door, Sirius shaking hands with Draco while Harry hugs Remus. But when they switch, Remus darts forward and envelops Draco in a hug instead of shaking his hand. The blonde stands rigidly in the embrace, but if Remus thinks the reaction is odd he doesn’t show it, he just pulls back again and claps the blonde on the back, smiling at him kindly. 

 

”Come in, come in…” he says, gently ushering both boys into the house. 

 

Harry feels the warm gust of a Drying Charm as Sirius hits him in the back with one, before doing the same to Draco. 

 

”Th-thank you, Mr—”

 

”Sirius.”

 

”Y-yeah, Sirius, thank you”, Draco corrects himself awkwardly. 

 

”Come on in”, Remus says again as he squeezes past them in the doorway to the kitchen and walks over to the oucnter to grab the last items. ”Sit down, sit down… Draco, do you prefer tea or coffee?”

 

Harry smiles affectionately at his daddy and takes his usual seat at the table. Draco ambles up to the chair next to him with a hesitant look at Sirius, until the man rounds the table and chooses another one. 

 

”Coffee, please, M- hm- Remus”, Draco stutters.

 

Despite Harry owling his dads to say they would have to make it afternoon tea instead of lunch, Remus has gone all out with the sandwiches and scones and Harry’s extremely grateful for it, as is his cramping stomach since he hasn’t eaten anything since the meager breakfast at _Rosa Lee’s_. 

 

He waits until everyone is seated and tucking into the rather massive spread, before telling his dads about the interview he just gave. They’re surprised to say the least, but they don’t seem to think it was a bad idea. Quite the opposite. 

 

”I like it”, Sirius says decisively, leaning his chair back on two legs until Remus shoots him a warning look. ”Let people make their own minds up! Maybe if enough people start to wizen up, the _Prophet_ will stop their obsession with us and Dumbledore…”

 

”I was thinking more along the lines of putting enough pressure on the Ministry and the Wizengamot to actually start putting some strategies in place”, Remus says, reaching past the sandwiches to grab a chocolate muffin. 

 

”The Ministry…” Sirius snorts derisively. ”Resembling a Bundimun more and more each day — a stinking pest, and when they choose to shut their eyes it’s easy to mistake them for any old moss! I have a good mind to resign…”

 

”Well, that’s hardly an option, now is it…” Remus murmurs not unkindly, giving his husband a pinched smile. 

 

”I know”, he mutters. ”But we might need to start thinking about our options, anyway. I might get the sack any day now — it’s not like they’re not aware of my association with Dumbledore!”

 

”They don’t know about the Order”, Remus says, but Harry can clearly detect a flicker of worry in his eyes. ”And anyway, we’ll be all right.”

 

”If I _were_ to look for a different job, though…” Sirius says slowly, his eyes twinkling with humour. ”I wouldn’t know what to put on my Cirriculum Vitae, it’s not like I’m allowed to list the work tasks at my previous job… even listing my skills would be stretching it.”

 

Remus smirks, ”You can list your skills. Don’t be silly.”

 

”I knew I shouldn’t have taken this job straight out of Hogwarts…”

 

”Didn’t you have to train to become an Unspeakable?” Harry asks curiously. 

 

”No, I did. But the Ministry does their own in-house training. It’s a four-year training programme…”

 

”Four years? Is the Auror Programme four years as well?”

 

”No, the Auror Programme is three years, but a lot harder and physically taxing—”

 

”Why are you asking about Auror training?” Draco asks Harry sharply and he shrugs, he’d only asked about it because it’s the only Ministry programme he’s heard of before, mainly from Tonks when he was kid because she’d gone through it at the time. ”I hope you’re not thinking of becoming an Auror?”

 

”No”, Harry says slowly and rolls his eyes. 

 

”What about you, Draco?” Remus asks gently. ”Do you know what you want to do after graduation?”

 

”Yes, I want to continue studying”, the blonde answers immediately. ”I want to get a Mastery.”

 

”You d-do?” Harry asks in surprise, feeling like the worst boyfriend ever. How did he not know that already? 

 

”A Mastery”, Remus says with an impressed nod. ”What subject?”

 

Draco seems to hesitate for a moment. 

 

”Well, my mother wants me to be an Arithmancer…” he says slowly. ”Probably because it’s the safest profession she could think of…”

 

”But you don’t even take Arithmancy right now, at Hogwarts!” Harry says. 

 

”No…”

 

”What about your father?” Sirius asks, gazing at Draco steadily. ”What does he want for you?”

 

”He doesn’t really care, as long as I work for the Ministry in some capacity”, Draco mutters. ”He wants me to follow in his footsteps, basically…”

 

”Does he…”

 

”And what do you want?” Remus asks kindly. ”You said you want to get a Mastery, so you’ve obviously thought about it…”

 

Draco nods, hesitating again. 

 

”I want to study wandlore.”

 

”Wandlore?” Harry repeats in surprise. ”You want to be a wandmaker?”

 

”Yeah…” Draco murmurs. ”Maybe…”

 

”But they’re all anti-social weirdos—” Harry starts to protest. 

 

”Harry”, Remus admonishes gently. 

 

”Well, aren’t they?” he insists stubbornly. ”Ollivander was a real creep. Anyway, I would have thought you’d want to be a Potions Master, since you love Potions and Professor Snape so much…”

 

”Because _he’s_ such a social butterfly…” Draco murmurs, his lips twitching. 

 

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, pushing his chair onto its two back legs again and balancing happily on them. Remus shoots him another look and he grins back, letting the chair fall forward once more. 

 

”It’s getting late…” Remus sighs, with a regretful look at the clock above the doorway. 

 

Draco reaches out and grabs Harry’s hand through the sleeve of his jumper and gives it a squeeze of encouragement. Harry nods and takes a deep breath.

 

”Before we go… there’s something else I need to tell you…”

 

Both men still. Sirius shoots Remus a subtle look, probably to gauge his worry level. But Remus’s face is a mask. Harry swallows and takes another deep breath. 

 

”At the start of the year, I got into a bit of a… thing… with To- ehm — with — with Professor Umbridge, the new Defence teacher…”

 

”A thing?” Remus frowns. 

 

”Yeah. I was ehm… insolent… in class”, Harry mumbles, feeling his heart begin to beat a steady tattoo in his chest. ”But it was because —”

 

”Insolent?” Remus interrupts. ”How? What did you do?”

 

”I… I talked back—”

 

”Harry!”

 

”But you should have heard her, daddy!” Harry exclaims. ”She was saying nasty things — really awful — about you — she called you horrible things, she said — said — I don’t want to repeat what she said, but it was just awful, evil—”

 

”It’s true”, Draco murmurs quietly. 

 

”She’s a complete hag!”

 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look, then Remus turns back to Harry with a small, but sad smile. 

 

”Harry…” he says heavily. ”I’m sorry you had to hear that but, as much as it pains me to say this, that is something that you’re going to have to get used to. A lot of people think like Professor Umbridge and you can’t go flying off the handle every time you run into them. All right?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry mutters nervously. ”There’s more…”

 

”Go on…” Remus sighs. 

 

”Well, she gave me detention, every night for the rest of the week, so eh… three… ehm, detentions, that first week of school…” he continues carefully. ”And I tried really hard to behave after that, daddy, I swear I did…”

 

”Yes, I’m sure you did, cub”, the man says gently. ”But…?”

 

”But, then… I was talking in class one day and she completely flipped out on me. I swear I didn’t even do anything. I just made a comment to Draco, not loudly or anything, but she just freaked out and gave me another week’s worth of detentions—”

 

”She gave you a week’s worth of detentions for talking in class”, Sirius says incredulously. 

 

Remus shoots him a hesitant look, worrying his lip but not saying anything. 

 

”Yes! She completely has it in for me—!”

 

”Harry”, Remus cuts in, pinning him with a serious look. ”Regardless of whether the detentions were deserved or not, why didn’t Professor Snape write and tell us this at the time? Two weeks of detentions is quite serious. Usually he’ll write to inform us if you’re more than ten minutes late for a lesson…”

 

Harry blinks. He really hopes his daddy is exaggerating, because that’s a lot of owls going back and forth between Hogwarts and Creirwy’s Hollow if he’s not…

 

”He, ehm… he thought it would be better if I told you myself, and ehm”, he hesitates and takes a shaky breath. ”And I’ve been sort of… putting it off because, well, I’ve been working up the ehm… courage to eh, bring it up…”

 

”Harry”, Sirius says, frowning. ”You shouldn’t be scared to tell us anything!”

 

”I wasn’t scared… exactly…” Harry mumbles awkwardly, looking down at his balled up fists on the table, hidden inside the sleeves of his jumper.

 

”Cub…” Remus murmurs gently, reaching out to smother his hands with his own. 

 

”There’s… one… more thing”, Harry says quietly, pulling his hands out from under his daddy’s. 

 

Swallowing thickly past the lump in his throat, Harry pulls the sleeve back from his left hand before resting it flat on the table again. 

 

It takes the men a moment to notice it, but even without looking up Harry can immediately tell when they do, because the very air in the kitchen seems to freeze over around them. 

 

”Professor Umbridge, she… she makes you do lines in detention…” Harry says, his voice coming out strangely strangled due to his lungs having seemingly frozen as well, making it really hard for any air to pass through them. ”Please don’t be angry…”

 

”Moony…” his dad says slowly. 

 

Harry glances up and catches the furious glint in his daddy’s eyes as he stares down at the words carved into Harry’s hand. Sirius is watching him with a worried, almost frightened look in his eyes. Both of their faces have drained of all colour, but they both remain calm. 

 

Although, glancing over at his daddy again, Harry can’t help but to think that this is a different kind of calm… _like the kind before a storm_ … 

 

And suddenly Harry is glad he waited to tell them. Because if his daddy is this furious now, he dreads to think how he would have reacted if he’d seen his hand before the cut had healed over and scarred. Sure, the pink words look obscene against Harry’s pale skin. But the effect is significantly less dramatic now, compared to when they were still _blood red_ … 

 

”Daddy?” Harry says in a small voice. 

 

”Get your coats, boys”, the man says quietly. ”We’re taking you up to the castle.”

 

Remus sends Hedwig with a message to Dumbledore, before he and Sirius Side-Alongs Harry and Draco to the edge of the school grounds. By the time they’ve walked along the winding road from the wrought-iron gates up to the castle, Professor Snape is waiting for them at the top of the staircase, looking extremely apprehensive. 

 

”I’m not angry with _you_ , Severus”, Remus murmurs quietly as soon as he’s reached the top step. 

 

He attempts to push past Potions Master, but Professor Snape takes a step back so that he is still blocking Remus’s path even as he gives him an apologetic look. A soft growl escapes Remus and Harry can tell that he’s more or less vibrating with barely controlled rage at this point. Something that might be fear flickers in Professor Snape’s black eyes, but despite this he puts a calming hand on top of Remus’s shoulder and murmurs his name quietly. 

 

For some mysterious reason, this seems to relax Remus slightly and he nods, taking a deep breath. Harry looks over at hid dad curiously, but the other man is too caught up with glaring at Professor Snape to notice.

 

”Professor Umbridge is with the Headmaster in his office…” Snape murmurs, letting his hand fall away from Remus’s shoulder again. ”But she is refusing to see you, Remus…”

 

”She can’t refuse”, Sirius snaps. ”As legal guardians of one of her stu—”

 

”She is, however, fine with meeting with your husband”, Snape continues in a louder voice, completely ignoring Sirius’s outburst, and then adds regretfully, ”Technically, the law is on her side…”

 

Remus nods his understanding. 

 

”But—” Sirius starts. 

 

”Sirius”, Remus interrupts him this time. ”You’re Harry’s only _legal_ guardian. I’m hardly going to fight about _this_ , when the woman has permanently disfigured our son’s hand! That’s obviously her intention, to provoke a fight and draw attention away from why we’re really here. Will you please just go to the meeting?”

 

”But I… yeah, fine…” Sirius mutters darkly. ”I can’t promise I won’t hex her into oblivion, though.”

 

”I will endeavour to restrain you”, Professor Snape mutters, sending Remus an exasperated glare that makes both Remus and Harry huff a surprised chuckle, despite everything. 

 

”Please do, _Snape_ ”, they hear Sirius say acidly as he and Snape disappear into the castle. _”I would love the excuse…”_

 

Remus ushers Harry and Draco out of the drizzling rain and into the slightly warmer Entrance Hall, then pulls Harry into a big hug. 

 

”Daddy, we’ll wait with you—”

 

”No, no. It’s getting late, you go to your Common Room and I’ll wait here for your dad”, Remus says. 

 

He plants a kiss on the top of Harry’s head before pulling away, then reaches out to pull a startled Draco into a quick hug as well. 

 

”Everything is going to fine”, he tells them both firmly and the slightly furious glint that is still present in his eyes adds _I’ll make sure of it_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep adding chapters, but we *are* getting close to the end of this now... (I'm just having so much fun elaborating on the fluffy filler-scenes, like dates and family moments, I end up writing pages and pages on them, when I should be moving on to the next big plot point...)


	42. A case of the croaks

 

When Harry and Draco enter the Common Room their friends flock around them, babbling excitedly. Pansy and Daphne begin to speak over each other excitedly about having just returned from Hogsmeade when Professor Snape came striding past them, and more or less ran up the front steps and into the castle — ”Clutching a piece of paper!” Seamus cuts it rather loudly — and ever since the two girls got to the Common Room and told everyone about it, the wild theories about what could possibly have got their Head of House acting so panicked, have been flying apparently. 

 

Seamus seems convinced that the piece of paper is the clue to the whole thing and that it’s something to do with the Order of the Phoenix and You-Know-Who, whereas Blaise is insisting that Professor Snape would hardly have survived as a spy during the war if he would freak out so obviously, so the only explanation is that he’s waiting for some rare potions ingredient to be delivered and it’s been lost in the post. 

 

Harry can’t help but to laugh at his friends and that they seem think that it has to be one of those two things, that Professor Snape couldn’t possibly have any other interests or concerns. Harry has no idea what the man’s life outside of Hogwarts is like or what his interests actually are, but he’s not naïve enough to think that what they get to see of him at school is all there is to see, either…

 

”Why aren’t you more intrigued?” Pansy demands, narrowing her eyes at Draco when he drapes himself casually into an armchair, and he smirks at her. 

 

”Because we know what was on the piece of paper”, Harry answers for him. ”It was a letter sent by my daddy… I finally told them about Umbridge and her blood quill—”

 

Pansy gasps and slaps her hand against her mouth dramatically, but her wide eyes glitter with excitement. 

 

”They weren’t pleased”, Draco cuts in, as Harry squeezes down next to him in the armchair.

 

”No… My dad’s in a meeting with her and Dumbledore now, and Professor Snape too”, Harry says, then adds bitterly, ”She refused to see my daddy, so he’s waiting in the Entrance Hall.”

 

”Cow…” Pansy murmurs. ”This is fantastic though. She’s finally going to get it. Oh, I wish I could be a fly on the wall—”

 

”Oh, hey, speaking of which”, Draco says. ”Guess how Rita Skeeter got all that information about what was going on at school, even after Dumbledore banned her from the grounds?”

 

”How?” Blaise demands, dropping into the sofa next to them. 

 

”She’s an animagus! She can turn into a bug and she’s been sneaking into classrooms and stuff”, Draco tells him. 

 

”That explains so much — how’d you find out?”

 

”He didn’t”, Harry says. ”Granger did.”

 

” _Granger_?” Pansy repreats incredulously. ”Is _that_ what she wanted to talk to you about?”

 

”No…” Harry shakes his head. ”She brought Skeeter along to the meeting, wanted me to have a chance to tell my side of the story of what happened in June, without embellishments or anything… and here’s the sick part — Skeeter had no choice but to agree, _because Granger is blackmailing her!”_

 

”What”, Pansy says, blinking. ”You’re joking?”

 

”Granger?” Seamus says sceptically. ”The bookbag-hunchbacked, goody-goody know-it-all? Blackmailing the most vicious reporter in Britain?”

 

”Yeah”, Draco mutters. ”I know…”

 

”Blackmailing her with what?” Blaise asks curiously. 

 

”Oh, apparently Skeeter is an unregistered animagus, which I guess is illegal”, Harry shrugs. 

 

”I can’t believe Granger would blackmail anyone!” Daphne says. ”She’s got a lot more nerve than I’d’ve given her credit for…”

 

”What does _she_ get out of it, though?” Blaise says. ”Skeeter hasn't mentioned her in any articles since Krum, well, you know..." he trails off awkwardly and gives Harry an apologetic look. "So what does she care if Skeeter is sneaking into the castle to spy on us and write about it? And why go through all that trouble to get you a fair interview, Harry?”

 

”Guess she cares about the truth coming out?” Harry says and shrugs again.

 

”Oh, who cares about Granger!” Pansy exclaims suddenly. ”I want to know what happened when you told your dads about Umbitch! Was Professor Lupin really _furious_?”

 

She inches a little closer to Harry and pins him with a wide-eyed, glittery stare, her lips stretching in a malicious smile. 

 

”Yeah, he was quite angry”, Harry says. ”But he kept it together, probably because me and Draco were there… if it’d have been just him and dad when he found out, he probably would have shattered all the glassware in the house…”

 

”I can’t believe you didn’t tell them sooner!” Pansy says, practically bouncing with excitement. ”We could have been rid of her ages ago!”

 

”What do you mean?” Harry frowns. 

 

”Well, she’ll probably get the sack — don’t you think?”

 

Harry _hadn’t_ thought so, but now that Pansy has brought it up he supposes it’s not inconceivable considering the use of a blood quill has been prohibited by law and she’s still continued to use it even after the law was passed… Harry would have to prove it, of course — but Professor Snape is his witness, he’s been supplying Harry with pain-relieving salve! And Harry knows his Head of House has informed the Headmaster, as well — besides, it’s not just Harry that’s been forced to use the blood quill, it’s Draco too. Even if it was only the once. 

 

”I kind o’ don’t want her to get sacked”, Seamus says. ”At least not yet — not before we can carry out our prank!”

 

”I thought we agreed that would be reckless?” Blaise points out. 

 

”I don’t care — I want her to suffer!”

 

”Well…” Draco says slowly. ”Unless she is sacked with immediate effect, she _will_ … and it won’t be traced back to us”, he adds, with a nod in Blaise’s direction. 

 

”What have you done?” Harry squints at the blonde suspiciously and receives a smirk back. 

 

”I’ve enlisted the services of a… _neutral party_ …” 

 

”Taking a leaf out of Granger’s book, are we?” Blaise comments drily. 

 

Draco shoots him a glare. 

 

”Please”, he scoffs. ”If anything, that anomaly of gryffindorkish behaviour is clearly Granger channelling some repressed Slytherin tendencies…”

 

Blaise rolls his eyes. 

 

”And no”, Draco adds. ”I tried blackmailing them, but they said the… _secret_ … wasn’t worth the risk of expulsion. So I had to add a cherry on top. A very expensive cherry — but it will be worth it, if they turn out to be as good as they say they are…”

 

”Who are you talking about?” Harry demands, but a sneaking suspiscion is already curling in the pit of his stomach. 

 

Draco and Blaise exchange a quick look, then turn their heads towards him and blink innocently. Harry scowls and jabs Draco in the side. He immediately squirms away, smirking. _He said they_ , Harry thinks and his mind flashes back to that moment in the courtyard when he’d caught Draco staring at the Weasley twins thoughtfully. _Could Draco have paid the twins to sneak some of their Skiving Snacks into Umbridge’s food or something?_

 

 _I hope it’s something like that and not something worse,_ he thinks with a sinking feeling.

 

”Please tell me it’s not… anything _criminal_?” Harry begs worriedly. 

 

”I promise — you’re going to love it!” Draco assures him and gives him a teasing peck on the lips. 

 

 

*

 

Harry takes deep breath and knocks on the Potions Master’s office door. He’s not sure why he feels so nervous; he’s seen Professor Snape several times during the day and the man seemed in a relatively good mood, and as much as Harry’s progress in Occlumency is non-existent, at least he’s not getting any _worse_ … 

 

” _Come in_ ”, the unmistakable timbre of the Potions Master can be heard from the other side of the door and Harry takes another quick, deep breath and pushes the door open. ”Good evening, Harry…” 

 

”Good evening, Professor”, Harry says and shuffles inside the office. 

 

The Potions Master is standing with his back to the room, re-organising some potion phials on a shelf. 

 

”Come on in, have a seat”, he murmurs absent-mindedly.

 

Harry takes his usual seat in front of the desk and has to fight a very strong sense-memory induced impulse to hang his head, and reminds himself sternly that he is _not_ in trouble. 

 

Professor Snape whirls around and swoops down in the seat opposite, fixing him with a piercing look. 

 

”How… are you… feeling… Harry?” he asks slowly, the words seemingly punching their way past his clenched jaw and out of his mouth. 

 

”Sir?”

 

”How are you feeling?” the man repeats firmly. 

 

His eyes narrow in a half-hearted glare, seemingly defiant as if it’s the most natural thing in the world that he should be asking Harry such a thing — and that it is Harry that is acting weird by being surprised by it — even though Harry can’t remember ever having been asked that question by his Head of House before, and if he _has_ , it’s been directly related to an incident and the word _’feeling’_ has alluded to his physical well-being, not emotional — but _now_ , Harry is almost certain that’s what the man is asking him how he is feeling, _emotionally_. 

 

”I’m… fine, I guess”, Harry shrugs. ”A little… worried, I suppose.”

 

”Worried?” Snape repeats, his eyes narrowing further into tiny slits. 

 

”Yeah. About what’s going to happen. With everything. Umbridge. Me and Draco. Everything else — You-Know-Who-and-What-and-That — My dads haven’t told me anything about the meeting yet, and Draco’s not heard from his parents so I don’t know what’s going to happen with that either, but the interview hasn’t been published yet I suppose so—”

 

”Wait, stop”, Professor Snape says, waving a hand to emphasize. ”What are you talking about now? What interview?”

 

”Oh, ehm. Well, mine. I met with a reporter and gave an interview about what happened last summer—”

 

”You… did? What reporter?”

 

”Ehm, well, Rita Skeeter… it’s okay though!” he adds hurriedly. ”She’ll write it up exactly as I’ve said it and then it’s going to get published.”

 

”Impossible”, Snape mutters. ”The _Daily Prophet_ would never—”

 

”No, not the _Prophet_ … _The Quibbler_ ”, Harry admits.

 

Professor Snape blinks, but says nothing. Then he staples his hands in front of him again and speaks in a rush of words, telling Harry the abridged version of the meeting with Umbridge, adding wryly that he only had to physically restrain his dad _once_ and Harry huffs out a laugh. 

 

”There will be an internal investigation”, Snape continues seriously. ”But she has been granted by the Minister to continue teaching while it’s on-going… Unfortunately…” he pulls a face and glares down at his own fingertips. ”As for what’s going to happen with… The Malfoys and… Everything else, I cannot begin to speculate.”

 

”That’s okay”, Harry says sardonically and gives him a pinched smile. ”I don’t really want to speculate about it, anyway.”

 

”In this interview, did you reveal the identities of the Death Eaters that were present in the graveyard?”

 

”Yeah, I did”, Harry nods. ”I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but… It’s done now.”

 

”Indeed…” Snape nods as well.

 

They sit in fairly uncomfortable silence for a few seconds. Then Professor Snape pushes to his feet with such a sudden movement that Harry jumps slightly, but when the Potions Master moves the Pensieve aside and brandishes his wand, he eagerly gets to his feet as well. 

 

He plants his feet firmly apart and grabs his own wand, relieved for once to delve into his Occlumency lesson, if only to avoid any more awkward heart to hearts with his Head of House. 

 

”Prepare yourself…” Professor Snape murmurs and Harry nods. ”One… Two… Three… _Legilimens_!”

 

A rush of memories flash before Harry’s mind’s eye, but almost immediately the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries appears and Professor Snape swiftly breaks the spell again. 

 

Harry sucks in a deep shuddering breath as he feels the invasion of his mind subside and Professor Snape’s office reappears around him. He pushes to his feet again, his knees a little weak but nowhere near as shaky as usual after a mental attack. _Maybe I’m getting used to this,_ finally, he thinks hopefully. 

 

”What was that?” Professor Snape demands. 

 

”What?” Harry asks. 

 

”Are you still dreaming about the Department of Mysteries?”

 

”Well, ye—”

 

”Are you not clearing your mind before bed?”

 

”I am—!”

 

”Don’t lie to me!” Snape says grimly, his piercing eyes flashing with warning. 

 

”I’m not… _I’m not, I swear!_ ” 

 

”Well clearly it’s not working.”

 

”Well, that’s not _my_ fault—!” Harry snaps, throwing his hands up in exasperation and then catching himself just in time and adds a hurried _Sir_. 

 

Professor Snape’s eyes narrow further and he presses his lips together tightly. Pocketing his wand again, he reaches for a quill and a piece of parchment and begins to scribble something furiously. Harry barely resists craning his neck to sneak a peek, but instead looks down at the wand in his hands… _And here I thought I was getting better… He’s probably writing to Dumbledore to say he refuses to teach me anymore —_

 

”I am devising a small program for you”, Snape says in his strictest teacher’s voice, still scribbling furiously. ”It consists of three simple yet effective relaxation exercises that will help you clear your mind. You are to do all three of them, every evening before bed, and if you don’t, if you skip one or two, or you skip them all even for just one evening, or you hurry through them in your usual lackluster way, _I will know_ …”

 

He finally stops writing and snaps his head up to fix Harry with a threatening look and Harry sighs, nodding his understanding. Professor Snape tosses the quill aside and thrusts the piece of parchment into Harry’s hand. 

 

Harry looks down at the neatly written set of instructions — complicated instructions, he notes bitterly — and feels his stomach sink. Between revising for the O.W.L.s, Quidditch practise and Occlumency, he hardly gets to spend any quality time with Draco and their friends anymore. And now this… He sighs again. 

 

”Would you prefer to start taking the Dreamless Sleep again instead?” Snape snaps. 

 

Harry quickly shakes his head, ”No. No, Sir. This is… I’ll do these, every night, I promise… I really do want to get better, Sir.”

 

The hard look in the professor’s eyes softens slightly and he gives Harry a curt nod. 

 

”Good. You can start tonight.”

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

His friends all look up at him in surprise when he returns to the Common Room and he tells them with a sigh that he’s doing so badly that Professor Snape dismissed him early and told him to get an early night instead. Their surprise morphs into understanding and sympathy, and Harry pulls a face. He hates this feeling — like he’s a failure and a disappointment. Draco reaches out and brushes his fingers against the inside of his wrist. 

 

”I’m going to go get ready for bed…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”You okay?” the blonde asks quietly. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry shrugs. ”I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me… Good night…”

 

He drags his feet over to the dorms and gets his toiletry bag and towel from his trunk and goes to the communal boys’ bathroom to brush his teeth and on his way back again, he makes another beeline for his friends’ little study camp in front of the fire to kiss Draco good night, before crawling into bed. 

 

He takes a deep breath and unfolds the piece of paper with the exercises on, squinting at Professor Snape’s tiny handwriting and reading every instruction twice, to make sure he’s read it right, just like he always does in Potions, determined to do the exercises right, and by the end of it, his head is tight with a tension headache and it takes him a long while before he can relax enough to begin to drift off…

 

Suddenly he becomes aware of a warm body pressed up against his back and slender but strong arms hugging him tightly from behind… _Draco_ … Harry can’t see a thing in the darkness inside the closed bed hangings, but he just knows that it’s Draco behind him, embracing him, nuzzling the back of his neck — he can’t put his finger on what it is, if it’s the way their bodies fit together, or how he feels safe and at home, but he just knows that Draco is behind him — 

 

Then suddenly, he’s not. 

 

Harry begins to feel for the other boy’s arms and hands that was roaming all over his chets a moment ago, but they’re gone. He twists around and feels for the other boy’s body next to him in the bed, but the sheets are cool and he his definitely the only one in the four-poster bed. 

 

_’Draco?’_

 

He sits up, staring out into the darkness and seeing nothing. 

 

 _’Draco?’_ he calls out a little louder. 

 

Kicking the covers off, Harry hurries to pull the bed hangings aside and scrambles to sit on the edge of the bed, ready to get up and go look for his boyfriend —

 

But instead of coming face to face with the gleaming black window facing the bottom of the Black Lake and the green and silver tapestries on either side of it, Harry finds himself staring at a large torch, its glow glimmering in the black tiles of the wall it’s mounted on. 

 

 _Of course,_ he thinks turns his head slowly. 

 

He swallows a sigh as he sees the damned door to the Department of Mysteries to his left… _But_ … His heart lurches inside his chest and begins to pump frantically as he spots a strip of blue light along the right-hand side of it… _It’s open!_

 

Barely resisting the temptation to break out into a run, Harry begins to walk towards the door with quick, long strides. He stops right in front of it, his breath shallow with excitement as he stares at it. He can hardly believe his luck. _The door is open, left ajar — it’s actually open!_

 

He reaches out and gives it a firm push and it swings _wide open_ —

 

A sudden gust of cool night air rushes in under Harry’s covers and he startles awake. 

 

In the next second, the bed dips and Draco slithers in next to him. 

 

”What…” Harry croaks, but the blonde hushes him. 

 

He hears Draco’s muttered _Silencio_ charm, then a muffled clatter as he puts his wand down on Harry’s bedside table before pulling the hangings closed again with a soft whoosh. 

 

”What—” Harry begins again, but stutters to a stop when he feels slender fingers push past the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. ”What… what are you doing?”

 

”Shhh… I just want to try something…” Draco murmurs with his lips brushing Harry’s. 

 

Several ideas fly through Harry’s mind, each filthier than the next and he nods eagerly. He feels the lips pressed against his own twitch into a smirk and then disappear completely as the other boy shimmies down the length of his body, pulling down his pyjama bottoms and pants as he goes. Draco settles between his legs and Harry instinctively spreads them a little wider to give him room. When Draco begins to trail kisses and little licks down the thickening length of Harry’s prick, he has to remind himself to breathe and he he presses his eyes shut, focusing on nothing but his own breathing and the sensations that spark up inside him. 

 

He is steeling himself for the inevitable moment when Draco will envelop the leaking head in his hot mouth and begin to suck, and gasps in surprise when the inquisitive mouth ventures further down and mouths at his balls instead. Draco’s slender but strong hands knead the insides of his thighs, gently but firmly pushing them further apart while his tongue continues to swirl around Harry’s scrotum — 

 

Gasping for a second time, Harry nearly sits up in shock as he feels the tip of the tongue flick at the sensitive skin behind his balls. 

 

”Shhh…” Draco hushes softly, his fingers digging into the flesh of Harry’s thighs and Harry forces himself to relax against his pillows again.

 

The tongue continues to lap at his skin, moving in lazy but determined circles, further and further down… Harry’s face is burning and his mind screaming, but at the same time pleasure like he’s never felt before is pulsing through him, almost painfully… He feels his prick twitch and his balls tighten… And as the tip of Draco’s tongue dabs at the sensitive entrance of his hole, the most intense orgasm Harry has ever experienced rips through him and his vision explodes.

 

When he comes to again, Draco has joined him at the top of the bed and is resting his head over Harry’s racing heart. 

 

”Was that okay?” he whispers. 

 

Harry can’t quite get his voice to work and simply nods. 

 

”Can I stay here with you?”

 

Harry couldn’t tell Draco no even if he wanted to. Not after that. But he still can’t find his voice, so he nods again instead and hugs the other boy closer. A small part of his mind worries that the experience, as amazing as it was, might have cancelled out Professor Snape’s relaxation exercises and he should do them again. But then he thinks he’s never actually felt more relaxed in his life, so what would be the point?

 

He still feels bonelessly relaxed, not to mention ridiculously happy, when he slumps over his porridge bowl the next morning and judging by the small smiles Draco keeps throwing his way, he’s not the only one. 

 

Finally, Seamus lets out a loud groan and tosses half a bread roll at the two of them. It narrowingly misses Draco’s head and bounces off the wall behind them, but the blonde still spends the rest of breakfast stabbing at his eggs rather aggressively while shooting the Irish boy significant glares. Harry’s happiness can’t be swayed however, and it’s not just Draco and their amazing night together. But he just feels rested and happy and hopeful… and relieved, even though he knows he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be dreaming about the Department of Mysteries at all — but he can’t help the dreams that come to him during sleep, he tells himself. And after months and months of feeling frustrated at having to stand staring at a locked door, overwhelmed with longing to get to the other side, when it finally opens, who wouldn’t feel relieved?

 

He pushes that thought away and hopes that Professor Snape won’t weasel it out of him during their Occlumency lessons.

 

Finishing up his porridge, Harry reaches for the coffee caraffe and refills his cup while he waits for Draco to finish eating, but it only takes him a few minutes longer than Harry and the others. It’s amazing to see the change, Harry thinks. Less than a year ago it would take Draco at least an hour to finish his breakfast and almost two hours to pick his way through the larger meals at lunch and dinner. Now he’s almost as fast as the rest of them and he probably would be _as_ fast, if it wasn’t for his incessant _fussing_ with napkins and cutlery and aligning goblets and plates and whatever else he has in front of him _—_ which is less to do with stalling, Harry has come to realise, and more to do with nearly obsessive-compulsive table manners. 

 

They’re all finishing up their coffees when Seamus elbows Harry in the side and nods towards the Head Table. Professor Umbridge has finally arrived for breakfast and although her cool smirk is in place as always, it’s looking less smug than usual. 

 

”Not looking very happy, is she?” Seamus murmurs with relish and Harry nods in agreement. 

 

Suddenly, Professor Umbridge turns her head and her bulbous eyes unexpectedly flits over and meet Harry’s head on. He blinks startled, but before he can look away, the woman turns her head away again and her small smirk flickers out. As if trying to hide it, she grabs the cup of tea in front of her and takes a large sip from it. 

 

When she leans in to engage a rather unwilling Professor Flitwick in conversation casually, Harry looks finally away. 

 

However, his attention is almost immediately pulled back when a loud _croak_ cuts through the early morning quiet of the Great Hall, followed by confused murmurs as the students all turn their half-hearted attention away from their breakfasts and look around them curiously. 

 

”What was that—?” Pansy mutters. 

 

Another loud _croak_ permeates the confused atmosphere and the murmurs around the Hall rise in volume as well as excitement. 

 

”Ho-ly…” Seamus whispers, his voice quivering with repressed laughter. 

 

”What—?” Harry says. 

 

His eyes scan the Great Hall for the source of the croaking and just are skirting past the Head Table when a third one rings out, louder than the previous two and he catches Umbridge slap both of her hands over her mouth. _Wait_ — 

 

”Was that…? Did she—?”

 

Umbridge scrambles to her feet, both hands still pressed against her face — a face that is rapidly growing red from holding her breath, Harry notices — her bulging eyes desperate and glistening with tears. Just as she reaches the side door another _croak_ literally explodes out of her mouth with such force that her hands fly away from her mouth, and she more or less dives out the door to a deafening roar of laughter that erupts from the students (and some teachers) behind her. 

 

Harry lets out a shocked guffaw and whips his head around to stare at Seamus and Draco. The delight on the Irish boy’s face as he claps his hands and laughs uproariously, is enough to tell Harry that he had no idea that was about to happen. Likewise, the proud smirk on Draco’s face tells him that the blonde knew exactly.

 

”How?” He asks him. 

 

”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Harry just shakes his head and grins at his boyfriend. 

 

The group leaves the Great Hall with a decided spring in their steps, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Their good spirits carry them through the day and only reach new heights when it’s announced that Professor Snape will be taking their afternoon lesson in Defence Against the Dark Arts, since their regular teacher is _stuck in the Hospital Wing_ … Clearly, whatever made the witch croak like a toad, wasn’t that easy for Madam Pomfrey to fix. 

 

”What was it?” Harry asks Draco again as they’re getting ready for bed later that evening. ”Come on, you can tell me!”

 

”I don’t know”, the blonde says earnestly. ”All I know is that Umbitch’s life will be a living Hell for the foreseeable future and it won’t be traced back to us. That was the deal.”

 

”The deal”, Harry repeats with a grin. ”With the Weasley twins, right? How much did you pay them?”

 

”A lot… But it’s actually more of an investment. At least that’s what I’ll tell my parents—”

 

”What, in their mail ordering business?”

 

Draco turns to him in surprise. 

 

”You know about that?”

 

”Yeah, they tried to sell me some skiving off sweets when I saw them in the summer…”

 

”You saw them in the summer?”

 

”Yeah — I told you!” Harry frowns. ”The Order headquarters, where my dad grew up?”

 

”You didn’t say the Weasleys were there”, the blonde counters, matching his frown. 

 

 _That’s right, I didn’t,_ Harry thinks, remembering suddenly that he’d made the decision _not_ to tell Draco about the Weasley children and Granger being there when he was, because he didn’t want the blonde to get angry about him hanging out with Ron. 

 

”I didn’t?” Harry says now, feigning confusion and avoids the other boy’s eyes under the guise of putting toothpaste on his toothbrush. ”I thought I did… Or maybe I just assumed you’d assume that, seeing as their parents are in the Order as well… But anyway, it was only one afternoon, and we didn’t really do anything, I mean, the twins tried to sell me skiving sweets, Granger kept asking me about bugs, and then I went home with me dads again!”

 

”Granger? She was there too?”

 

”Er… Yeah?” Harry says, feeling a light layer of sweat break out along his hairline. ”I think she and Ron might be a couple!”

 

”So Ron was there too?” Draco says, looking less than impressed when Harry finally looks up to meet his eyes again. 

 

”Please, don’t be mad—”

 

”I’m not.”

 

”You’re… Not?” Harry frowns, studying the other boy’s face intently. 

 

He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look angry either, Harry observes. More resigned, than anything. 

 

Draco raises his eyebrows at him. 

 

”You’re not”, Harry says again. 

 

”No. I’m not.”

 

”Oh… Well, good. Because you have no reason to be”, Harry mumbles and resumes brushing his teeth. 

 

”I know…”

 

Draco gives him a tight smile and returns his attention to assembling all his toiletries into his silver toiletry bag. 

 

Harry frowns. Something is not right. Draco is never _not_ angry about him hanging out with Ron, or mentioning the redhead’s name, or even looking in his general direction… And yet, he really does seem fine. Usually he’s quite good at shuttering his face, but his eyes are open books to Harry. And now, they seem… Fine. Totally fine.  

 

 _Maybe he’s got a lot better at hiding his feelings,_ Harry thinks.

 

”Are you almost done?”

 

”Huh?” Harry says around the half-forgotten toothbrush shoved into the side of his mouth. 

 

Draco raises his eyebrows at him again. 

 

”Oh…” Harry removes the toothbrush from his mouth and spits into the sink. ”Yeah. I’m done.”

 

He straightens up again and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Draco scrunches up his nose, but says nothing. 

 

When Umbridge’s seat at the Head Table in the Great Hall remains empty during breakfast the next morning, Harry thinks hopefully that the woman is still holed up in the Hospital Wing with a case of the croaks and makes his way towards the Defence classroom with a considerable spring in his step, feeling almost like he’s floating — but as soon as he steps through the door to the classroom, he’s rudely reminded of the presence if gravity again, because behind the teacher’s desk Umbridge sits waiting for them with her wide, insincere smile firmly in place. 

 

Harry stifles a groan and drags his feet to the front desk, where Draco has once again chosen to sit. 

 

Umbridge has got another mindnumbingly boring lesson planned for them and Harry is struggling to stay awake by the end of it, the only thing keeping him from drifting off entirely being the nagging sensation of having someone stare at you — _And not just anyone,_ he thinks sourly. _But an evil, toad of a woman_ — Because it’s Umbridge staring at him. He’s looked up and caught her several times, so he knows it’s her. And she seems unfazed and surprisingly unapologetic about it, as well. In fact, whenever he meets her gaze head on, she only narrows her eyes suspiciously. But she doesn’t look away. 

 

It makes Harry’s skin prickle and he comes very close to snapping, a furious _’What?’_ trapped in his throat growing bigger and itchier by the minute, but he manages to restrain himself before he spits it out. 

 

Finally the bell rings and Harry gratefully shoots to his feet, grabbing his books and fleeing the classroom without a backwards glance. 

 

”Harry?” Draco calls after him. 

 

”Hey, wait for us!” Seamus cuts in. 

 

Harry doesn’t slow down or look back. He shoves his way past a couple of Ravenclaws and dives out of the classroom, but as soon as he’s in the safety of the hallway and out of Umbitch’s line of sight he stops to wait for his friends. 

 

”What’s got into you—?” Draco says as soon as he catches sight of him next to the door. 

 

Harry just shakes his head angrily and starts walking off again, hoping Draco and their friends will follow suit without any fuss. He can’t exactly explain it, but he just needs to get as far away from Umbridge as possible or he’ll do something stupid —

 

”Harry!”

 

” _What?_ ” he snaps angrily, wheeling back around. ”Can we go already? I want to get out of here!”

 

”Fine…” Draco frowns, but picks up his pace a little as does the rest of their friends, much to Harry’s relief. 

 

At least that was the last DADA lesson of the week, so he won’t have to see the woman again until next week, he tells himself. 

 

But when they walk up the step ladder to the Divinations classroom, she’s there as well, waiting with her clipboard and smirk. 

 

 _And_ still _shooting me looks,_ Harry thinks furiously. 

 

It’s not until later that night, when he’s trying and failing to sleep, that it hits Harry. She must think _he’s_ behind the prank!

 

The mass breakout from Azkaban had been a major set-back for Fudge and the Ministry, but an even bigger one for Umbridge, at least on a personal level, judging by her increased desperation to gain full control over Hogwarts in the weeks following the news. But that was nothing compared to the days that follow the croaking incident. 

 

Since that morning, the woman has begun to roam the hallways looking for reasons to put students in detention, much like a vulture circling a dying man. She has also begun to supervise every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson, clearly hoping to sack one, if not both, teachers before Easter. Which is why, despite her now avoiding all meals in the Great Hall, they still see her several times a day and Harry is constantly on edge, expecting her to pop up around every corner. 

 

It’s very obvious who is on her list of suspects for the prank, he thinks. Because he never catches her narrow her eyes suspiciously at Draco or Blaise, nor Pansy and Daphne, as she does at him. He does catch her do that to Seamus, though. And the Weasley twins and their friend, the Quidditch commentator, Lee Jordan. 

 

He voices this theory with the others one evening in the Common Room, but they don’t seem at all surprised and Harry figures they must have noticed too. After all, she’s hardly discreet about it.

 

”Think the twins will be able to carry out any more pranks now that she’s keeping an eye on them?” Seamus says. 

 

”They better”, Draco mutters. 

 

Harry isn’t the only one on edge. Professor Trelawny has taken to venturing outside of her tower lately, walking up and down the corridors, wringing her hands and muttering to herself. Harry meets her on his way to meet up with Draco in the library one day and attempts to give her a polite smile, but she hardly seems to notice him because she’s too busy looking over her shoulder and when he passes her, he gets a whiff of cooking sherry that seems to be oozing off her. 

 

Hagrid is just as close to cracking, acting even more distracted than normal and even jumpy during lessons, and he’s constantly losing the thread of what he’s saying and answering questions wrongly, his eyes darting between the Dark Forest and Umbridge’s clipboard anxiously. 

 

Seamus has started smuggling popcorn into the lessons, stating that if he’s not learning anything, he should at least get something out of it, ”Such as entertainment!”

 

”But what are the _popcorn_ for?” Harry asks again, even more bewildered than before Seamus answered him the first time. 

 

”What do you mean, you eat popcorn when you watch a show—!”

 

”You bring _food_ to the opera?” Draco says shrilly, having overheard them. 

 

”I don’t _go_ to the opera”, Seamus says and rolls his eyes. 

 

”Opera, theatre, same difference”, Draco says dissmissively. ”You bring _food_ —?”

 

”No, I don’t _bring it_ , they sell it there!”

 

Draco stares at him, horror-struck and speechless. 

 

”Well, they do in my theatre…” Seamus adds. 

 

”That’s _barbaric_ —”

 

”Oh, don’t be such a toff… I bet you bring snacks when you go to a Quidditch game?”

 

”That’s different, and no I don’t”, Draco says firmly. 

 

*

 

The end of their Friday afternoon Transfiguration lesson with the Gryffindors, their last lesson of the day as well as the week, couldn’t have come sooner in Harry’s opinion and he slumps in relief when the bell finally rings, despite the essay that Professor McGonagall decides to add to their already staggering mountain of homework. He’s got a massive tension headache from being on edge all week and can’t wait for the weekend to start. 

 

Dodging a group of gossiping Gryffindor girls lingering in the corridor just outside the Transfiguration classroom, Harry and his friends hurry across the Middle Courtyard and into the Entrance Hall. Since it’s too early for dinner, Draco suggests they all head to the library so that they can start to chip away at the homework mountain, but Harry just wants to lie down and rest his mind for a while and says as much. 

 

”You okay?” Draco murmurs quietly, brushing his hand over Harry’s wrist discreetly. 

 

”Yeah, I’ll be fine”, Harry nods. ”I’ve just got a headache. You guys go ahead, I’ll see you later for dinner…”

 

”All right, if you’re sure…”

 

Harry nods again and gives them a half-hearted wave, before making his way over to the spiral staircase to the dungeons. 

 

According to the Marauder’s Map (that he’d had in his possession for all of five minutes before his daddy confiscated it) the staircase actually has a name — Slughorn’s Stairs — who Slughorn is and why the Map thinks the stairs belong to him, the Map didn’t divulge. At the time, Harry had thought maybe it was the name of the person who built the staircase. 

 

But now that he thinks about it, it doesn’t make much sense for a person to have built just one staircase in all of Hogwarts, and nothing else. Besides, even if that was the case, then all the other stairs should be named after whoever built them as well, and they’re not, as far as Harry is aware. 

 

 _Oh, who cares anyway_ , Harry thinks tiredly, as he totters off the last step. 

 

The Slytherin Common Room is completely deserted, but Harry can hear muffled voices coming from one of the girls’ dormitories. The boys’ side seems quiet though and Harry is immensely grateful for that. This is just what he needs right now: peace and quiet — and a bed. 

 

He trudges down the stone steps towards the Fifth Year boys’ dorm and more or less collapses on top of his four-poster. His persistent headache keeps tapping against his skull and pushing on his eyes, from the inside, making it impossible for him to actually fall asleep, but the semi-darkness and the quiet allows the tension pain to at least simmer down, so that by the time he joins the others in the Great Hall for dinner he feels less like the walking and grumpy dead, and more like the tired Fifth Year that he is. 

 

Despite the mountain of homework, a nail-bitingly close Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game in combination with little exposure to Umbitch who has apparently decided to avoid the Quidditch Stadium as well as the Great Hall, makes it a good weekend — so Harry is far from ready for it to be over by the time Monday morning rolls around, which he tells Draco firmly when the blonde tries to rouse him. Or at least that was his intention, but it might have come out sounding more like a half-choked wail. 

 

”Oh, don’t be such a grump! Come on, we’re going to miss breakfast—!”

 

”I d’n’t c’re”, Harry grumbles, so tired and annoyed that he can’t even be bothered with vowels. 

 

”I will go to breakfast without you”, Draco threatens in a loud and clear voice, punctuating each word by jabbing his finger rather painfully into Harry’s shoulder. 

 

”Gggggnnnffmmmpphh…”

 

”What’s that?”

 

”GGGGNNNMMNN—!”

 

”Harry”, Draco says sternly. ”Quit being a baby and get out of bed this instance!”

 

Harry finally flops over onto his back and glares up at the blurry blonde blob.

 

”Merlin’s pants! Who do you think you are, my daddy?” he croaks moodily.

 

”Get. Up—”

 

” _All right!_ ”

 

Harry gets dressed with jerky, agressive movements, managing to get twisted up in his own shirt sleeve for a second and getting even more annoyed than he already was. 

 

Draco and the others give him a wide berth and wait silently for him to finish his struggles with his school uniform and his shoes, then continues to stay patiently silent alongside him all the way up to ground floor, even when he mutters darkly in their general direction. 

 

Finally, as they slide into their seats at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and Harry gets a couple of mouthfuls of coffee in him, some of his mood is lifted and he grumbles out an apology to whomever feels they should have one — and is met with a chorus of six voices all accepting the apology in varying degrees of sincerity, before he’s ignored again. 

 

Harry shrugs to himself and takes another large gulp of coffee. 

 

He’s just refilling his cup with the post arrives and he quickly scans the ceiling for a flash of white, but Hedwig is nowhere to be seen, which is hardly surprising since he completely forgot to send her home to his dads with a letter yesterday like he’d planned, so it would be quite remarkable if she were to show up with a reply anyway… What is surprising however, is that another owl lands in his empty porridge bowl and gives him an important hoot. Harry blinks. 

 

”Who are you for?” He asks, reaching out for the note attached to the owl’s leg. ”Oh, you _are_ for me… That’s weir—”

 

Suddenly two more owls come fluttering down, jostling the first one aside and fighting over Harry’s attention. 

 

”Er…”

 

”Harry, why are you receiving so much post—?” Draco starts and before Harry can even begin to think of an answer, the three owls are joined by another five. ”What is going on?”

 

”I… I don’t know!” Harry says, trying fruitlessly to get the excited Parliament of owls to settle down by  flapping in his hands in a wafting manner which they completely ignore. ”Hey, what’s that? That brown one is carrying a parcel — Hey — _Ow_!” 

 

One of the owls at the front had nipped his finger quite hard when Harry tried to reach out for the parcel, most likely feeling that since they were more or less queuing up before him, Harry ought to adhere to their order and not start at back. Harry sucks his injured finger into his mouth and eyes the affronted owl warily.

 

”Seamus, can you pass it here?” Draco asks the Irish boy sitting opposite them. 

 

It’s a rather long, cylindrical-shaped parcel and quite light. Harry turns it over a few times curiously, but there’s nothing written on it besides his own name and his current location — _Great Hall, Hogwarts —_ so shrugging to himself, he opens the end of the cardboard tube and shakes out a rolled-up magazine. 

 

Harry is shocked to see a photograph of himself scowling back at him from the front cover and trying to hide behind the headline: ”HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST — THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN”

 

It’s the March edition of _The Quibbler_. 

 

”It’s good, isn’t it?” a dreamy voice drifts over to him and he tears his eyes away from the magazine to blink at Loony Lovegood suddenly stood in front of him. 

 

Pansy and Daphne who are sitting opposite him both flinch and twist around to scowl at the girl standing behind them, but unsurprisingly Loony seems completely unaware of their intentions. In fact, she seems to take their acknowledgement of her presence as some kind of invitation, because in the next moment, she squeezes down between them on the bench. 

 

Harry looks between the three girls warily, wondering what’s more likely to happen, Pansy clawing the Ravenclaw’s eyes out or Daphne hexing her into oblivion, and whether he ought to prevent it seeing as the girl has more or less done him a favour — but before either of the girls can make a move, the oddball between them starts to speak again and what she says is interesting enough that they let her continue, albeit reluctantly. 

 

”It came out yesterday, so I asked dad to send you a free copy… I expect these—” she gestures towards the remaining owls, growing more and more impatient with Harry. ”Are letters from readers, you know?”

 

”Oh, right”, Harry mumbles, looking at the owls with renewed dread. ”Well, tell your dad thanks, I guess.”

 

”All right, I will”, Loony says pleasantly. ”See you around, Harry.”

 

They all watch bemused as the girl hops off the bench again and totters back to the Ravenclaw table and returns to her breakfast. Harry is not surprised per se, but a bit sad to see that the Ravenclaw table is quite crowded except for the seats surrounding Loony, which are resolutely left empty. She’s definitely an oddball and Harry can’t say for sure that he would sit with her every meal if he was in her house, either. But she’s not that bad. 

 

”Ow!” Harry yelps as one of the owls bites him again. ”Fine, hang on…”

 

He starts untying all the letters hurriedly and one by one the owls take flight again, until he’s left with a pile of parchment and a table littered with feathers and droppings. 

 

”Are you going to open them?” Seamus asks curiously. 

 

”No, I don’t think so”, Harry shakes his head. ”It’s probably just people who think I’m barmy and wants to tell me so… I get them at the house all the time, except my dads get rid of them for me… I hope this won’t happen every morning from now on, though.”

 

”I’m surprised it hasn’t happened earlier”, Blaise says. ”After everything the Prophet has been writing. Not to mention last year with the Tournament.”

 

”Yeah… I always assumed the wards of Hogwarts kept them out somehow. But apparently not—” Harry cuts himself off suddenly as Bertram, the Malfoy family’s owl, carrying a neatly rolled-up letter sealed with the Malfoy family crest, lands in the middle of the table. 

 

Draco’s face drains of colour and his hands shake slightly as he reaches out and unties the letter. With a shallow breath, he breaks the seal and begins to read. Harry feels his insides crawling as he watches him and waits for his reaction. 

 

When the blonde finally looks up from the letter again, there is a hard look in his eye. It’s the look of grim resolve that he gets whenever he’s faced with an unpleasant situation that nevertheless needs to be dealt with and decides to deal with it. Harry recognises it well, because he has seen it plenty of times before — has even been the cause of it a couple of times, first when he decided to go after the Philosopher’s Stone and then again when he was determined to rescue Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets — _and now once more_ , Harry thinks as he watches his boyfriend roll up the letter neatly again. 

 

”What does it say?” he asks him quietly. 

 

”Just what you’d expect…” Draco says and tucks the letter away in his robes. ”But it doesn’t matter.”

 

”It… doesn’t?” Harry asks tentatively. 

 

”No. It doesn’t”, Draco says firmly and drains the dregs of his coffee. ”They’re not here and what they don’t know won’t harm them. So there’s no problem.”

 

”Right…” Harry says slowly, adding silenty to himself: _no problem — for now…_  

 

”Well, what am I going to do with these?” He adds, looking at the huge pile of letters in front of him again. ”Think I can just leave them here for the house-elves to get rid of? Or do you think someone might take them and read them if I do? I’m not sure I care either way, to be honest, but…”

 

”It would be a shame to just get rid of them though”, Pansy says. ”Some of them might be positive. You never know.”

 

”I’m not going through them all on the odd chance that a few of them might be nice…”

 

”Well, what if we all just read a few”, Daphne suggests. 

 

”Fine”, Harry sighs. ”I’ll take them to the Common Room and we can sift through them later, if there’s time…”

 

He scoops up the huge pile, muttering a thanks as Pansy and Draco pick up the few that tumble out of his grasp and making sure that Seamus has got the copy of the Quibbler, he starts to make his way out of the Great Hall again, with his friends following behind. 

 

They’re halfway across the Entrance Hall when a familiar little cough rings out in the silence and Harry stops dead in his tracks. 

 

”Mr Potter…” a sickly sweet voice says behind him. 

 

Swallowing down the bile that immediately rises in his throat, Harry turns around and glares at the woman. She smiles back at him. 

 

”What is all this?” she asks, gesturing towards the many letters. 

 

”Fan mail”, he says curtly, smirking when he hears Seamus stifle a snicker behind him. 

 

Umbridge’s smile flickers out and her eyes harden. 

 

”Excuse me?”

 

”Fan mail”, Harry repeats. ”Mail, from fans.”

 

” _Fans_?” Umbridge says sounding the very opposite of sweet suddenly. 

 

”Well, maybe they’re not _all_ fans, but they’ve all written to me because of an interview I’ve given about what happened to me in June. Want to read it—?”

 

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than Seamus thursts the copy of the Quibbler into Umbridge’s hands. She goggles at it, her flabby cheeks turning a blotchy red. 

 

”When… did you do this?” She asks, her voice slightly shaky with barely controlled rage. 

 

”Last Hogsmeade weekend—”

 

Umbridge’s head snaps up and she fixes him with a furious look, the Quibbler crumbling in her trembling fists. 

 

”There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr Potter—” she hisses. 

 

”What?” Harry frowns. 

 

”How _dare_ you… _How_ you could have… _You_ …” she takes a deep breath. ”I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies, Mr Potter, but apparently the message has still not sunk in… Fifty points from Slytherin and another week’s worth of detentions—”

 

”What do you mean I can’t go to Hogsmeade anymore?” Harry demands. 

 

”Hogsmeade visits are a priviledge”, Umbridge snaps. ”Priviledges can _and will_ be taken away from those students who continue to break the rules and _disobey_ —!”

 

”What rule has he broken?” Draco cuts in. ”There’s no rule that says you can’t—”

 

” _Silence_!” Umbridge snaps shrilly. ”Another fifty points from Slytherin! That’s two weeks worth of detentions for you Mr Potter, and no more Hogsmeade visits for any of you, for the rest of the year!”

 

”But”, Harry splutters. ”But that’s not — I _live_ in Hogsmeade — _my dads_ —!”

 

”Well you should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you, Mr Potter! Maybe now, finally, you will learn that your actions have consequences!”

 

And with those final words shouted shrilly and echoing around them, Umbridge stalks off. 

 

”Professor Snape is going to have a fit…” Pansy comments drily. 

 

They all turn to follow her line of sight to the four massive hour-glasses, showing the house points, mounted on the wall opposite the entrance to the Great Hall. The hour-glass on the far right, which is the Slytherin hour-glass, which had been closing in on the Gryffindor one only moments ago, now barely have any emerald green marbles left in its top half. 

 

 _Pansy is right,_ Harry thinks. _Snape is going to blow his lid, and then he’s going to kill me, slowly, with a spoon._

 

Less than an hour has passed when the signs start popping up all around school. Massive signs with enormous, glaring letters on every wall. Not just on the house noticeboards in the Common Rooms, but in the hallways and classrooms as well and they immediately become the topic of conversation throughout the castle amongst students and teachers alike.

 

” _BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_ ”, each sign bellows with bold, capital letters. ” _Any student found in possession of the magazine_ The Quibbler _will be expelled. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven. Signed: Dolores Umbridge, High Inquisitor_ ”

 

Funnily enough, even though Harry doesn’t see a single copy of the _Quibbler_ anywhere in the school all day, by late afternoon, students seem to be quoting the interview to each other or discussing the content in excited whispers all over the place. 

 

Professor Snape walks up to Harry during lunch and asks to have a word with him in private and Harry obediently trails after him. Remembering the house points, he glances down at the man’s hands half expecting to see the glint of a spoon handle, then sternly tells himself to stop being silly. 

 

They stop just outside the doors to the Great Hall and Professor Snape turns to face him again. Harry can see the house hour-glasses over his shoulder and feels his stomach lurch unpleasantly. 

 

”I’m sorry, Si—” he starts, but the Potions Master cuts him off with an impatient wave. 

 

”Whatever it is, I don’t want to know”, he says firmly. ”I just wanted to let you know that if you should start to feel at all unsafe in the dorm, or the Common Room, from now on, then you come to me immediately, understood? I don’t know exactly how yet, but we will figure out a solution, should we need to.”

 

Harry blinks in confusion. 

 

”If Vincent and Gregory give you any grief”, Professor Snape clarifies slowly, giving him a perplexed look. 

 

”Vincent and…”

 

 _Oh shit,_ Harry thinks with a pang. _Crabbe and Goyle! And Theodore!_

 

He’d been so worried about the Malfoys’s reaction when he gave the interview that he completely forgot about the other Death Eaters he’d named. 

 

Professor Snape stares at him.

 

”Ehm…”

 

”This hadn’t already occurred to you?” the man says incredulously. ”You didn’t take into consideration that half the boys you share a dorm with are sons of Death Eaters _before_ you made the decision to out these Death Eaters?”

 

”Er…”

 

”Merlin on a Nimbus”, Snape mutters and looks up into the ceiling as if hoping to find something there that will give him strength or patience. 

 

”Sir—?”

 

”No”, Snape mutters immediately and snaps his head back down, scowling at the floor instead. ”No, I need a moment — I need coffee and peace and quiet —” and then swirling around dramatically, he stalks off down the corridor. ” _Just stay out of trouble!_ ”

 

In the following days, random people come up to Harry and shakes his hand, or they greet him casually in the hallways then mutter quietly under their breath that they believe him, before happily continuing on their way. The attention, and the fact that it’s positive for a change, makes Harry feel invigorated and almost hopeful about the future for the first time since last summer. 

 

Umbridge and Filch have begun stalk the corridors and performing random spot checks on the students, demanding they turn out their book bags and pockets, obviously hoping to confiscate copies of The Quibbler, but they never find any. 

 

Blaise manages to procure another copy for all of them to read, since Umbridge confiscated the one Loony’s dad sent to Harry, and rips out the pages with Harry’s interview and shows them all a spell that makes the pages appear like a homework essay to anyone else but the person reading them. 

 

”How d’you learn that?” Harry asks, impressed by the spellwork. 

 

”Weasley twins”, he says with a shrug. ”They’ve been selling spells and invisible book bags and all sorts all week…”

 

Harry laughs. 

 

Even the teachers find ways of showing their support, even though none of them can say anything to Harry out right, due to Educational Decree Number Twenty-six, but Professor Sprout rewards Slytherin twenty points when Harry passes her a watering can during a Herbology lesson, Professor Flitwick sneaks a box of squeaking sugar mice into his hand at the end of Charms and says, ”Shhh!” with a beaming grin and scurries off, and Professor Trelawny breaks down crying at the end of Divination, announcing dramatically to the whole class that Harry won’t suffer an early death after all, but live to a ripe old age, become Minster for Magic and have twelve children. The students blink at her in shock and exchange bemused looks, while Umbridge slams her clipboard under her arm and stomps out of the classroom. 

 

Harry watches her retreating back with grim satisfaction. He feels oddly invincible. 

 

Of course, it’s not all roses…

 

Harry had had a talk with Theo right after his short conversation with Professor Snape and stammered out an awkward apology for naming his dad in the interview — the truth is, it hadn’t even occurred to Harry at the time, when he rattled off the names of the Death Eaters present in the graveyard, that _’Nott’_ was in fact his friend Theo’s father, but he doesn’t tell Theo that. Instead, he tells him that Rita Skeeter had said that if she was going to write up the interview then it would have to be there and then (which is true) and so Harry had had no way of checking with Theo (which is, kind of, true) and the only reason he could check with Draco was because he was there with him. 

 

”It’s okay, Harry”, Theo says, shaking his head. ”You did what you had to do. Right?”

 

”Right”, Harry says awkwardly. 

 

”My dad’s an arsehole anyway…” the other boy mumbles. ”My mum and I barely see him and when we do he’s… Well… Nevermind…”

 

But despite Draco and Theo being, if not okay with the situation then at least with Harry, the atmosphere in the Common Room is still tense and the atmosphere in the dorm outright threatening. Because Crabbe and Goyle, as it turns out, are not as fine about having their fathers’ Death Eater activities made public as Draco and Theo are. Crabbe has taken to cracking his knuckles meaningfully at Harry at every opportunity whereas Goyle growls at him whenever they pass each other, but so far it’s been all bark and no bite… 

 

That is, until they’re playing Ravenclaw and Goyle ”accidentally” sends a Bludger into Harry’s back that nearly knocks him off his broom. 

 

Winded and paranoid, Harry makes sure to stay as far away from the other players as possibly for the rest of the match and as a result, Chang beats him to the Snitch. Slytherin still wins, but only by a margin and Flint is furious afterwards. He yells at Harry briefly for disregarding the strategy that they’d come up with together, but most of his bile he directs at Goyle, threatening to throw him off the team if he ever tries anything like that again. 

 

He then rounds on Crabbe and points an accusatory finger at his chest, ”That goes for you too!”

 

”I didn’t do anything…” Crabbe grunts. 

 

”Do you think I’m stupid?” Flint barks back. ”Leave Potter alone, both of you, or you’re off the team!”

 

By the time they have all washed the sweat and grime off and changed out of their Quidditch robes and into their uniforms again, Flint has cooled off and the team can tentatively start to chat about their victory as they make their way back to the castle.

 

*

 

As usual, Umbridge’s seat remains empty throughout dinner and with her gone, and Crabbe and Goyle distracted by the bucket load of food on their plates, Harry can happily tuck into his shepherd’s pie without anything dampening his good mood.

 

He’s just polishing off his second helping of pudding when he hears the crack of thunder and looks up with a bemused frown. The sky had been clear when they left the Stadium less than an hour ago, but now the enchanted ceiling is growing steadily darker and as Harry watches, big fat drops of rain begin to fall from the curling storm clouds. 

 

Except, they don’t look like any raindrops Harry has ever seen before. Instead of being transparent and shimmering in the light from the thousands of candles floating below them, they appear solid and dark… Harry squints his eyes, trying to make out the shape… But he doesn’t have to squint for long, because unlike the rain or snow that would normally fall from the enchanted ceiling, whatever is raining down on them now doesn’t magically evaporate into thin air just before they reach the floating candles, but keep falling —

 

There is a sudden tumult as heavy, squishy objects tumble through the overhead candles and land with loud _floomps_ on top of the tables or bounce off the students’s heads or shoulders with squelchy smacks before tumbling to the floor. The students begin to yell and scream, bursting to their feet and jumping from foot to foot, trying not to step on any of the objects while simultaneously covering in their heads with their arms. 

 

Pansy lets out a shrill shriek as one of the falling objects smack against her hand before bouncing off and falling out of sight. 

 

”It touched me! It touched me! Oh, it’s disgusting!” She screams, scrambling off the bench. ” _Morgan le Fay, I just stepped in one!_ ”

 

”What the…” Blaise says, ducking to the side as another object comes hurtling thorugh the air and lands with a splash in his custard. ”They’re… They’re…”

 

 _Toads,_ Harry thinks with a jolt. _It’s raining toads!_

 

He staggers to his feet, careful not to trod on any of the creatures that have now begun to croak and jump around on the floor. 

 

Pansy and Daphne grab a hold of each other desperately and hop hurriedly through the debris of amphibians, squealing and screaming whenever something falls on them or they step on something.  

 

Harry watches their progress and that of the other students clamber over each other and the sudden pest to flee the Great Hall, in dumbstruck fascination. Draco grabs a hold of him and hisses something about getting out of there and Harry nods numbly, still staring at the crowd that is stampeding out of the Great Hall, past a very stricken-looking Umbridge standing in the door.  

 

She stands with her wand at the ready, but seemingly petrified in the doorway simply staring at the mayhem inside the Great Hall as a cacophony of croaking washes over her. Harry feels his face break out in a massive grin and his heart begin to pound inside his chest, pumping adrenaline through his body. It feels like victory all over again, but a proper victory, like it would have felt if he’d caught the Snitch. 

 

”Harry, _let’s go!_ This is disgusting!” Draco gripes, pulling on his arm. 

 

He allows himself to pulled towards the doors, but pauses right next to Umbridge. Only for a second. Draco keeps pulling on his arm, urging him to keep walking, but Harry stands his ground. He waits for the woman to notice him and meet his eyes, then he smiles. 

 

That seems to jostle her out of her stupor, because with a sudden jerk she staggers back a step and blinks furiously. 

 

”You…” she chokes out, her eyes flashing with rage. ” _You_ … You _dare_ …”

 

”Professor”, Harry says innocently. ”Something seems to be wrong with the Enchanted Ceiling. You might want to have a look at it—”

 

Then with a final, cool smirk he lets Draco pull him away. Glancing over at the house hour-glasses on the wall, he catches the last of the emereld marbles dropping into the lower half of the Slytherin one, just before Draco pulls him towards the stairs to the dungeons. 

 

 _But it was worth it,_ he thinks. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's either one very long or two medium-length chapters left of this instalment... Please keep your lovely comments coming, because they literally fuel me!


	43. Dreams and memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I've had a day off for once?

 

Harry’s invigorated spirits carry him through several hours of celebrations in the Common Room despite a building headache and he decides that, instead of giving in to it and going to bed like he would normally do, he is going to take Seamus’s advice for once and simply _drown it_ … Which is why he is draped over Pansy at midnoght, trying to get his tongue to work properly so that he can tell her something _really important…_ Halfway through his struggles with his consonants, he forgets what the important thing is that he’s meant to be telling her, but his sense of urgency never wavers so he continues talking anyway. Pansy doesn’t seem to mind his rambling or his slurring, though, because she’s too focused on whatever _she’s_ saying to _him_ — _so it’s all good,_ Harry thinks happily. 

 

Harry has actually lost count on how may drinks he’s had, because his goblet keeps refilling itself — he thinks it must be spelled, somehow. Or the house-elves have something to do with it. It’s not until he hears Draco’s voice somewhere to his left saying _’Seamus, he’s had enough!’_ rather sharply, that it occurs to Harry that maybe Seamus is the house-elf prying him with firewhiskey (or whatever the spirits in the drink is. Harry stopped tasting it after the second one.)

 

Hah, spirits, he thinks and giggles into his half-empty goblet. Good spirits for my good spirits. 

 

”But, you know?” Pansy says passionately next to him and their heads bump together. 

 

Harry nods emphatically, even as small giggles keep bubbling up and escaping through the corner of his mouth. He knows. Definitely. 

 

”Abs’lu’ly”, he slurs seriously. ”Cou’n’t agree more!”

 

”Righ’? _Right_? Tha’s whaddam sayin’!”

 

”Yeah, defini’ly…”

 

”What are you two talking about?” 

 

Harry and Pansy’s heads bump together again briefly, before they manage to look up and locate the direction of Draco’s voice. They blink blearily at him where he’s sitting, watching them patiently from the other end of the sofa. Harry squints, trying to determine which one of him he should be focusing on, since there are now two of him and they are both giving him pinched smiles. 

 

”Er…”

 

”Wha’d you say, Dracie-poo?” Pansy says slowly, leaning against Harry so that she can see him better and causing Harry to fall back slightly. 

 

”I said… What are you two talking about?” Draco repeats patiently. 

 

”Er…” Harry says again. 

 

He frowns at Pansy, trying to remember. The girl frowns back. 

 

”Only it sounded very important”, Draco adds. 

 

Harry nods frantically, nearly head-butting Pansy but the girl chooses the exact right moment to lean back and fix Draco with a wide-eyed stare. 

 

”It is!” she says vehemently. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry agrees. 

 

”Very!”

 

”Imp’rt’nt, abs’lu’ly!”

 

” _Yes_!” Pansy exclaims as if Harry’s has just imparted a new wisdom on her and beams at him. 

 

”Right…” Draco mutters. ”Well, I brought you both some drinks. Here you go. Make sure you drink all of it—”

 

Harry struggles to wrap his suddenly numb fingers around the new goblet that Draco holds out, but eventually manages to clasp it in a secure grip and takes an eager swig — then immediately gags and splutters. 

 

”The Hell’s this?”

 

”Water”, Draco says, both of him giving Harry an unimpressed look. ”Drink it—”

 

”You tryin’ t’kill me?”

 

”Drink. It.”

 

”Aww Draco, yer no fun!” Seamus snickers. 

 

He comes staggering over to them and collapses between Harry and Draco on the sofa, half on top of the blonde until he’s roughly shoved away again and he sits up a little straighter. 

 

”Let them have some fun—”

 

”They are going to want blood in the morning and I will be the first one to point them in your direction, Finnigan—”

 

”Spoilsport—”

 

”Blaggard—”

 

Harry loses interest in the argument next to him and turns his head back towards his drink, but his head has grown a lot heavier in the last few hours and the force of the turn makes him topple forward and nearly slump to the floor. 

 

”Whoa, whoa—!”

 

 _Why is my head so heavy?_ Harry thinks faintly. _And why does it hurt so much?_

 

Suddenly there are hands clutching his shoulders and an arm pushing against his chest and pulling him back towards the sofa’s backrest. The movement makes his whole head spin and causes the pain in his head intensify, and he bats the hands and arm away impatiently. 

 

He’s had plenty of headaches in his life, but he’s sure he’s never quite experienced this before. His brain feels like it’s been turned into lead and yet it seems to be pulsing and throbbing like an organism… An organism that keeps sweeling and growing, pushing in his skull… _It’s going to crack,_ he thinks in panic.

 

He lets the water goblet tumble from his fingers and clutches his head with both hands, groaning. 

 

_My head will explode; Then what do I do?_

 

The hands are back, clutching at him. He tries to twist away from them, but without releasing his head there’s not a lot he can do and he can’t let go of his head because then it will explode and he’ll be dead. Presumably. Maybe one can survive without a head, but Harry thinks it’s highly unlikely. 

 

”Okay, all right”, someone says. ”Let’s get you to bed…”

 

The hands stop pushing him back against the sofa and starts pulling him away from him instead. Other hands find his back and push on him. _Bastards,_ Harry thinks. _Ganging up on me. Bastard hands._

 

He staggers to him feet and sway, nearly losing his balance and falling flat on his face — except something catches him on the way and his face ends up squished against something else, something vaguely familiar — the hands on his shoulders suddenly gain arms and he finds himself cradled in a firm embrace for a moment, before he’s gently pushed up to stand firmly on his own two feet again. They just stand there swaying for a moment, him and the hands, as he gets used to the feeling of his own legs and the manages to find his balance despite the undulating under him and the walls spinning. 

 

Then they begin to walk. The hands have gained arn arm again and what Harry thinks must be a body, that keeps bumping into him and knocking him off balance when he’s trying to simply put one foot in front of the other. He has half a mind to tell the body and the arm and the hand that if they’re going to insist on jostling him like this, he rather walk on his own.

 

”Watch the steps now…”

 

But in the end he decides to say nothing, because it feels rather nice to have the arm around him and the body bumping against him if he’s being honest… 

 

”Harry, can you…”

 

And also they smell really nice. He can’t put his finger on what the scent is, with his brain now turned into a quivering Dugbog, but he knows he likes it —

 

Suddenly the floor drops away and Harry flails his arms, clutching at the body and the arm and the hand in panic. The arm wraps around him securely and another one sprouts out of the body to wrap around him as well. _That’s nice,_ Harry thinks numbly through the torture of the Dugbog thrashing around inside his head.

 

”Stairs”, a strained voice grunts. 

 

 _Right,_ Harry thinks and tries to look where he’s stepping and almost immediately loses his footing and falls. Or he would have fallen, had the arms not manages to hold on to him. 

 

” _Merlin’s knickers_!”

 

”Sssrrr”, Harry mumbles. 

 

” _What?_ ” the voice pants, sounding in near hysterics. 

 

”Ssssrrrr!” Harry repeats, annoyed because _honestly, how many times should a person have to apologise?_

 

The voice doesn’t demand a third apology, fortunately. It starts muttering about Seamus instead and how it’s going to kill him. Harry doesn’t think this murderous plot is much cause for concern however. It’s only a voice after all, so what can it do? 

 

Now, if the _hands_ were talking about murdering his friend on the other hand… 

 

After much struggle, Harry manages to descend the stairs and the floor is once again flat under his feet, even if it is undulating. He tries to get his bearings, but before he can he’s being hauled across the floor and before he knows it, the hands have pushed him away and he’s falling… Gasping in horror, Harry starts to flail in panic, but he’s already landed softly on his back and only ends up squirming in place. 

 

”Calm down”, the voice snaps, then adds in a rather enraged tone. ” _Harry!_ Stop kicking! I’m trying to get your boots off—”

 

But before Harry can respond to the voice, the pain in his head reaches its crescendo and his head finally explodes. 

 

When he comes to he’s standing in a dark, curtained room and his head feels incredibly light, the way it always does after a headache and the sudden absence of pain fills it. A single, three-armed floor candelabra stands in the middle of the room, just slightly to the side of the centre and the flickering light bathes the room in eerie shadows. 

 

He stands behind a black velvet armchair, gripping the back of it tightly. His fingers are long and spindly, and it could be the dim light of the room, but they look deathly pale, as if he hasn’t been out in the daylight for years and years, but this is only a fleeting observation, and his focus is almost immediately pulled towards the floor in front if the chair… In the pool of light from the candles, a man in black robes is kneeling, bowing so low that his head is almost touching the floor… He is visibly shaking… 

 

”I have been badly adviced, it seems”, Harry says and his ice-cold voice comes out sounding high-pitched and wheezy, barely above a whisper and yet the effect is just as powerful as if he would have shouted at the top of his lungs because the kneeling figure on the floor gives a sudden lurch and the shaking in his body doubles in strength. 

 

”Master, I crave your pardon”, he croaks, without lifting his head. 

 

”I do not blame you, Rookwood”, Harry says coldly. 

 

He unclenches his hands from the back of the chair and slowly walks around it, inching closer and closer to the cowering man in circles, like a vulture circling its’ meal. 

 

”You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?” 

 

”Yes, My Lord, yes… I used to work in the Department after — after all …”

 

”Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it.”

 

”Bode could never have taken it, Master… Bode would have known he could not… Undoubtedly, that is why he fought so h-hard against Malfoy’s Imperius C-Curse…”

 

”Stand up, Rookwood”, Harry whispers. 

 

The kneeling man scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping over in his haste and finally Harry can see his face. It’s pockmarked and sallow, his eyes are sunken but alert as he keeps darting terrified looks at Harry’s face. Although the man, Rookwood, is standing stooped as though halfway into a bow, he is clearly a fullgrown man of above average height, and yet Harry is taller than him which would normally strike him as odd, but at the moment, he is too caught up in the cold rage stirring under his skin. 

 

”You have done well to tell me this”, he tells the man. ”Very well… It seems I have wasted months on fruitless schemes… I only wish that you would have told me sooner… But no matter… We begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude, Rookwood.”

 

”My Lord… Yes, My Lord”, Rookwood gasps in relief, his eyes watering slightly. 

 

”I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me.”

 

”Of course, My Lord, of course… Anything…”

 

”Very well. You may go. Send Avery to me…”

 

Rookwood clearly doesn’t need telling twice, because with a spasmodic bow he begins to scurry backwards and quickly disappears out a door half-hidden in the shadows. Harry watches him go grimly, gritting his teeth. Imbeciles, the lot of them, he thinks furiously and the rage slowly build inside him, burning white hot and threatening to burst out of him. But he tamps it down firmly. Only for a moment. Saving it for Avery —

 

Turning around a small, restless semi-circle, Harry glares towards the wall. A cracked mirror dotted with the signs of old age hangs there and Harry moves closer to it. As his reflection grows larger and clearer in the dark glass, a smooth face whiter than a skull floats out of the shadows and stares back at him through scarket eyes with slits for pupils —

 

”NOOOOOO!”

 

Harry startles awake to the feeling of being restrained and starts to flail even more desperately. 

 

”Harry! _Harry, stop!_ Wait—!”

 

He can feel hands on him and realises he’s manages to get himself twisted up in the bed-hangings and Draco is trying to free him. He stops moving around immediately, gasping for breath and in the next moment, the hangings come away and he stumbles out of bed and land in an ungraceful heap at the blonde’s feet. He retches, and the feet jump back startled. 

 

Harry groans, curling up into a ball and clutching his head. It’s still pounding in pain and now his scar is searing as well. Another wave of nausea hits him and spasms, retching again. 

 

”Should I get Snape?” Draco asks uncertainly, squatting down next to him and gently rubbing his back. ”Harry? Do you want me to get Sna—?”

 

”No”, Harry groans. 

 

He uncurls and reaches out to grab the side of his bed and pulls himself shakily on top of it again. He lies panting miserably for a moment, vaguely aware of Draco sitting down next to him, now rubbing gently circles on his chest and sore belly. 

 

”Was it a nightmare?”

 

”No…” Harry gasps. ”Vision…”

 

The hand stills over his heart. Harry focuses on its comforting weight there for a moment and just breathes. 

 

”What… What did you see?”

 

”Him… And a… Death Eater…”

 

”Wh-who?”

 

”Rook… Wood… And he was just… Getting… Avery… When I woke up…”

 

”Are you sure you don’t want me to get Professor Snape?”

 

Harry shakes his head, then groans again. He reaches up blindly and presses his cold palm to his clammy forehead, feeling his hot scar pulsing underneath it. 

 

”He’s angry… Avery gave him the wrong information… But Rookwood is going to help him now, so… He’s on the right track again…”

 

Finally getting his nausea and breathing back under control, Harry struggles up to sitting and blinks into the darkness. He holds up his hands in front of him, relieved to see they’re back to normal again. 

 

”It was horrible…” he says hollowly. ”I _was_ You-Know-Who… I…”

 

”Fuck…” Draco whispers next to him. 

 

Harry swallows thickly and turns to meet his eyes for the first time. The blonde’s face looks deathly pale in the darkness and his eyes are wide, even though he clearly just woke up, judging by his messy hair. 

 

”What’s going on?” Blaise croaks sleepily from the other side of the dorm. 

 

”Nothing, nightmare, sorry”, Harry calls out. 

 

He gives Draco a significant look and they both scramble back to sit in the middle of the bed instead, so that they can readjust the bed-hangings and throw a Silencio. 

 

”You-Know-Who was questioning Rookwood about something and Rookwood said that your dad had cast an Imperius on Bode to get him to do something—”

 

”Who?” Draco frowns. 

 

”Bode, he was my dad’s colleague, in the Department of Mysteries. Remember he had some kind of accident and was taken to St Mungos, where he was killed by a plant?”

 

”I don’t know”, Draco shakes his head impatiently. ”Is it important? You said something about Father?” 

 

”Yes, it’s important! Your father cast an Imperius on him so he could remove something from the Department of Mysteries, something that Voldemort wants, but Rookwood has just told him that Bode never could have removed it anyway, even if he hadn’t resisted your father’s Imperius! Voldemort was furious, said that was months of planning in vain, so whatever is in the Department of Mysteries, it’s obviously important to him!”

 

”Any idea what it could be?”

 

”Not a clue”, Harry shakes his head. ”But I keep dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries and in the dream I feel this longing to get it open and get to the other side… I never understood what the big deal was, but clearly Voldemort has been thinking about it all these months, yearning for whatever’s inside and I’ve been channeling that in my sleep!”

 

”Okay…” Draco nods. ”So what’s going to happen now?”

 

Wincing in pain, as his scar begins to sear once more, Harry clamps his hand back onto his forehead and rubs his scar furiously. Somewhere, Avery is being punished for giving Voldemort the wrong information, he knows. 

 

”Harry?” Draco says worriedly. 

 

”I’m fine”, Harry says shortly. 

 

”You should tell Profess—”

 

”No”, Harry shakes his head firmly. ”No. I’m not supposed to be seeing this stuff anymore. And if I was any good an Occlumency, and if I had done my relaxaton exercises like I’m supposed to, I _wouldn’t_ have seen it… If I go to Snape and tell him, I’ll have to explain to him that not only did I not do my relaxation exercises before bed, I was also completely sloshed…”

 

”Yeah”, Draco mumbles. ”Better not.”

 

On Monday morning, the house noticeboard has a new notice pinned to it and on closer inspection it turns out to be an advertisment for all students, in Fifth Year and up, who might want to join something called The Inquisitorial Squad, signed as always by the High Inquisitor herself. Harry glares at it, feeling dread and rage start coiling in his stomach. 

 

He turns to Draco to comment, but his voice gets stuck in his throat at the thoughtful expression on the blonde’s face. Sensing Harry’s attention, he tears his eyes away from the notice again and returns his stare. 

 

”You’re not seriously thinking of joining?” 

 

Draco shrugs tensely. 

 

”What?” Harry exclaims, embarassed to hear his voice climb up into falsetto. 

 

”Keep your enemies closer…” 

 

”Yeah, but… This is a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

 

The blonde shrugs again. 

 

”Someone needs to keep an eye on her. Blaise and the girls won’t do it, they don’t like to get involved. Seamus would, but there’s no way she’ll take him, he’s still on her list of suspects and probably one of the people she’ll want this Squad to keep an eye on…”

 

”Well, better you then me, then…” Harry mutters, glaring at the notice again.

 

”If she wouldn’t take Seamus, you really think she’d take you? You’re like Enemy Number One…”

 

Harry turns to face him again and notices the smirk on his face. 

 

”You don’t have to sound so pleased about that…”

 

”Maybe I like it…” Draco says suggestively. ”Maybe I have a thing for bad boys…”

 

”Really?” Harry says in surprise. 

 

Draco’s smirk twitches and then smoothly morphs into a soft smile. 

 

”No, not really. I just have a thing for you…”

 

As it turns out, Draco had been wrong in thinking the girls wouldn’t want to get involved because they’re the first to sign up after Draco and they’re not the only ones. Harry counts seven signatures from their year alone, besides Draco and the girls, Theo also decides to sign up, as do Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent. And those are just the Fifth Years. There are at least ten older students on the list as well. 

 

When Draco, Theo, Pansy and Daphne return from the first meeting, they reveal that only Slytherins have decided to join the Inquisitorial Squad, or at least they’re the only once Umbridge has decided to accept, and her main reason for creating the Inquisitorial Squad is that she suspects Dumbledore is secretly training students in Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

 

”But the way she talks about it”, Draco says shaking his head. ”It’s more than just annoyance at being stepped on the toes. It sounds like she thinks he’s building an army or something, like he’s grooming students to help him overthrow Fudge…”’

 

”That’s insane”, Harry says. ”Like properly barmy. She is literally out of her mind.”

 

”Yeah, and guess who she suspects are the generals of this little army of Dumbledore’s?”

 

”Who?” Blaise asks curiously. 

 

”Granger and the Weaslette…”

 

”You said it, Harry”, Seamus says drily. ”Out of her mind.”

 

”No, hang on…” Draco says, smirking. ”It’s not that far-fetched… Harry, remember that time Granger and Weasel came up to you in the library and talked about wanting to start a DADA study group? And they wanted you to lead it?”

 

”Yeah…” Harry says slowly. 

 

”Well… Think maybe they started it without you?”

 

”I don’t know”, Harry shrugs. ”It’s possible… Are you going to get them into trouble?”

 

”No…” Draco snorts. ”As much as I want to beat Granger in the O.W.L.s, she’s currently the enemy of my enemy so… Truce, or whatever…”

 

”How gallant of you”, Harry grins. 

 

”It’s only temporary.”

 

The fact that only Slytherins have joined the Inquisitorial Squad and now have a power over the students of the other three Houses, immediately causes friction. After only one day, Montague goes missing.  Harry suspects the older boy was trying to abuse his power and bit off more than he could chew, and he feels a bit torn about that. 

 

He knows Draco and his friends won’t abuse their power _too_ much, or if they do it’s harmless — for example docking a few points from Granger for being annoying, but not turning her in for running a secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. 

 

 _It’s all about perspective, after all_ , Harry thinks. 

 

But the tension between his House and the other three is really something that he could do without. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, as they leave a drizzly March behind and trudge into a dreary April, Harry and the rest of the Fifth Years become more and more aware of the impending O.W.L.s and feeling the stress more and more keenly. 

 

After having broken down in Herbology, a tearful Hannah Abbot stammered out that she is clearly too stupid to sit any exams and then requested dramatically to be taken out of school immediately. Professor Sprout, Hannah’s Head of House, kindly refused this request and sent her to the Hospital Wing and thus she became the first of many students to be given Calming Draughts by Madam Pomfrey. 

 

Within a week, at least five more students have been prescribed the same remedy and although Draco wasn’t one of them, Harry secretly thought he should be. The blonde is looking paler than ever and has large shadows under his eyes, since he’s now only getting about three hours of sleep a night, despite Harry carefully trying to encourage him to get some more rest. Whenever he tries, however, the blonde snaps at him and in his sleep-deprived state begins to accuse him conspiring against him, secretly hoping that his precious Gryffindor friend Granger will beat his O.W.L result. 

 

Harry rolls his eyes, but refrains from retorting, knowing there’s no point. 

 

*

 

”Get up…”

 

Harry sighs heavily and pushes to his feet. His knees click painfully as he straightens up and he wipes the cold sweat from his forehead. 

 

Professor Snape is glaring at him tiredly from his spot across the floor of the office, wand gripped tightly in his hand by at the moment hanging innocently at his side, Harry is relieved to discover. 

 

Once again, he’s come to kneeling on the uncomfortably hard floor of the Potions Master’s office, after having had his mind poked and prodded while having to endure an onslaught of jumbled memories, most of them from when he was younger but none of them very pleasant — it was all skinned knees, broken bones, nightsmares and Remus telling him off for not doing what he’s told and putting himself in danger at Hogwarts — and then of course, there was the odd embarassing memory as well… 

 

”That last memory”, Professor Snape says quietly. ”What was that?”

 

Harry frowns, trying to remember, but it’s getting more and more difficult to pinpoint any one specific memory from the rush of images and sensations that he experiences when Professor Snape breaks into his mind and digs around. 

 

”Ehm, I dunno, you mean the one when I spilled ink all over daddy’s—?”

 

”No…” Snape says slowly. ”I mean the one with a man kneeling in the middle of a dark room…”

 

”Oh… That…” Harry says, feeling his heart sink into his stomach. ”That… Is nothing…”

 

”Nothing?” Snape repeats softly, his dark eyes narrowing. 

 

”Yeah, nothing, ehm… Important…” Harry says, feeling a fresh layer of cold sweat break out along his hair line. 

 

”Harry… How did that room and that man come to be inside your head?”

 

Unable to look the man in the eye any longer, Harry ducks his head and glares moodily at the floor in front of him. Stupid floor, he thinks, reminded again of his bruised knees. Stupid, hard stone floor. I should ask Snape to get a rug or something —

 

”Harry.”

 

”Yes, Sir…”

 

”How did that room and that man—?”

 

”I had another vision”, Harry says before he can change his mind. ”I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to be angry with me because I went to bed without doing the exercises — it was just the once — I was, er, exhausted, you see and —”

 

”You had another vision”, Professor Snape repeats softly. 

 

”Yes, Sir. I dreamed I was You-Know-You talking to that man, Rookwood, he’d just told—”

 

”I don’t need to hear it”, Snape snaps. ”I don’t need you telling me the Dark Lord’s business, Harry.”

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”This is the only vision you’ve had since the one of Mr Weasley getting attacked?”

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

”Harry, look at me.”

 

Swallowing thickly, Harry looks up again. Professor Snape’s dark eyes bore into him. 

 

”This is the only vision you’ve had since the one of Mr Weasley?” he asks again. 

 

Harry nods. Professor Snape’s eyes narrow further, but then he nods as well. 

 

”We will start again… Wand at the ready… One… Two… Three… _Legilimens_!”

 

The room is suddenly swept into darkness and Harry stares in mute horror as a cloaked creature is swooping towards him, its rattling wheezy breaths seemingly sucking all the joy and life out of Harry who feels himself grow weak and cold… He becomes aware of the shape of his wand in his hand and clutches it a little more firmly. He takes a deep breath, staring the creature down with determination… 

 

And then he sees Professor Snape again, through the image of the Dementor gliding towards him, he can make out his Head of House standing in front of him, his dark eyes staring at him intently and his mouth moving as he mutters under his breath… And the harder Harry stares at him, the clearer he becomes and the foggier the memory of the Dementor becomes. 

 

Raising his wand, Harry bellows, ” _Protego_!”

 

Suddenly the Dementor has vanished again — Snape staggers back, a look of surprise on his face as his wand arm flies upwards — and then another rush of images wash over Harry, except these are not his memories, he realises immediately: Looming in front of him is a hook-nosed man that he’s never seen before in his life and he is shouting at a crying woman, Harry feels fear and anger rage inside him as he huddles in the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them desperately… He is lying on his back on a bed in a small, sparsely decorated room staring up into the ceiling, shooting down flies with his wand… He’s at Hogwarts, trying to mount a bucking broomstick while a scrawny girl with freckles and pig-tails is pointing and laughing… The hook-nosed man is back, now shouting at him while the crying woman is the one huddled in the corner, except the man is not nearly as tall anymore, that is to say, Harry is now almost as tall as him, and still he feels like the man is looming over him, his black eyes gleaming with hatred as he spits out the word _’Queer!’_ with the deepest loathing —

 

”ENOUGH!”

 

Harry is suddenly pushed hard in the chest by an invisible force and goes flying backwards, staggering unsteadily as he tries to keep his footing, but almost instantly loses his balance and falls back against the wall of shelves behind him. He hears something _crack_ behind his head and numbly thinks _I hope it wasn’t actually my head —_

 

Professor Snape’s chest is heaving and he is glaring at the shelf behind Harry grimly. Harry steps forward again on unsteady legs. Behind him something _tinkles_ and _drips_. 

 

” _Reparo_ ”, Snape hisses. 

 

Harry chances a look behind him and sees an empty, but whole glass jar standing in a pool of dripping slime. Reaching up to feel the back of his head tentatively, covering the new bump there he feels some of the slime in his hair and pulls a face. 

 

”Well…” Snape says and Harry snaps his head back to face him. 

 

”I… I did it…?” He breathes out, hardly daring to believe it. 

 

”Yes”, Snape says tersely, avoiding his eyes. ”That was good work, Harry.”

 

He stalks over to the Pensieve and Harry watches curiously as he removes a few more silvery strands of memories from his head and deposit them into the ones already swirling inside it. 

 

 _Those were Snape’s memories,_ he realises with a jolt. _That man and the woman crying, those must have been his parents —_

 

”We will try again”, Snape says curtly. ”You may use a Shielding Charm again, if you wish. Clearly, it was effective.”

 

Harry doesn’t dare respond. The Potions Master seems to be vibrating with a contained emotion and Harry is scared to find out which one it is. Instead, he nods his head and plants his feet squarely on the ground, raising his wand with a steeling breath. 

 

”On the count of three… One… Two… Three… _Legilimens!_ ”

 

Harry is hurrying through the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries, but once again he is still aware of Professor Snape standing in front of him, muttering under his breath and he is just about to fire off another Shielding Charm when he sees it… _The door… It’s open…_

 

His heart lurches in his chest. He begins to run, desperate to get to the door which is becoming clearer and clearer while Professor Snape gradually fades away again. 

 

With an eruption of pure excitement and relief inside his chest and stomach, Harry bursts through the open door to the Department of Mysteries — _finally!_ — and finds himself inside a circular room with all black walls, floor and ceiling, lit by blue-flamed candles mounted all along the walls between more black doors… So many doors, all around him… Harry knows where he needs to go, but which door will lead him there—?

 

”HARRY!”

 

The circular rooms with all the doors are suddenly engulfed in darkness. Harry opens his eyes. The stone ceiling of Professor Snape’s office comes into view and he realises he’s lying flat on his back on the floor, panting as if he’s really been running through a corridor… 

 

”Explain yourself!” Professor Snape demands and in the next second his scowling face is shoved into Harry’s field of vision. 

 

Harry sits up with a groan. The back of his head is throbbing and he feels feverish, like he used to feel all the time when he’d just started learning Occlumency. 

 

”I… I don’t know what happened…” He says truthfully, trying to push himself to his feet, but ends up standing on all fours for a moment, catching his breath. 

 

”Get up”, Snape snarls, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him roughly to his feet. 

 

”Sir, I swear, I’ve never seen that before”, Harry mumbles, stumbling slightly on the spot. ”I’ve told you, I’ve dreamt about that door, but it’s never opened before, ever…”

 

”You —”

 

Suddenly, a woman’s scream can be heard from somewhere outside the room and Snape cuts himself off and jerks his head upwards, frowning at the ceiling. 

 

”What the…”

 

Harry looks up as well, straining his ears… He can hear commotion of some sort and someone sobbing and wailing loudly… _That must be the Entrance Hall,_ he thinks. 

 

”Did you see anything unusual on your way here, Harry?” Snape asks him. 

 

Harry shakes his head. In the Entrance Hall above their heads, the woman screams again. Professor Snape clutches his wand with determination and strides towards the door. Blinking in surprise, Harry shakes himself from his trance and hurries after him. 

 

He catches up with Professor Snape at the top of the spiral staircase and nearly bumps into his back when the Potions Master stops suddenly at the sight before him. 

 

It looks like every single student has gathered in the Entrance Hall, thronging in the doorway to the Great Hall and all around the walls, and some are even crammed together on the Marble Staircase, eagerly craning their necks to see what’s going on… Harry does the same, stepping out from behind Snape a little more, he stands on tip-toe and looks over to the centre of the Entrance Hall where the crowd of students have left a space. 

 

In the middle of the space Professor Trelawney is standing, looking completely wretched with her hair sticking up in various places and her bottle bottom glasses hanging lopsided on her face, so that only one of her eyes appears magnified and the other looking shockingly small by comparison. They’re both swollen and red, leaking tears that run down the woman’s face as she sobs, mouthing silently as she stares in terror at something in front of her. Her many scarves and shawls are hanging loosely off her and some are even trailing behind her on the floor, giving the impression that she’s literally falling apart. 

 

 _What could possible have happened to make her lose it like this?_ Harry thinks, eyeing the wand gripped in one of the woman’s hands and the half-empty bottle of cooking sherry clutched in the other. 

 

”No! NO!” She shouts shrilly. ”This cannot be happening! I refuse to accept it!”

 

”You didn’t realise this was coming?” a familiar high-pitched voice says calmly. 

 

Taking a step to his left, so that he is standing slightly in front of Professor Snape, Harry can see Umbridge standing at the foot of the Marble Staircase, watching Professor Trelawney with a malicious little smirk on her face. ”Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow’s weather, you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?”

 

”You c-c-can’t — you c-can’t s-sack me — I’ve b-been here sixteen years! _Hogwarts is my home!_ ”

 

”It _was_ your home, dear”, Umbridge says sweetly. 

 

Professor Trelawney gives a involuntary spasm, then sink down to sit on something standing just behind her sobbing uncontrollably. Harry realises it’s a big trunk that she’s sitting on and that another one is standing next to it, upside-down as if it’s been literally flung down the stairs. 

 

”Now kindly take your things and leave this castle. You are embarassing us.”

 

Professor Trelawney begins to rock back and forth where she’s sitting on her trunk, hugging herself and crying uncontrollably. 

 

Suddenly someone breaks free of the crowd in front of the Great Hall and Harry can see Professor McGonagall stride up to Trelawney with assured steps. She stops next to her and pats her firmly on the back and hands her a handkerchief. 

 

”There, there, Sybil… Calm yourself down… Here you go, blow your nose… It’s not as bad as you think, you are not going to have to have to leave Hogwarts—”

 

”Oh, really, Professor McGonagall?” Umbridge says, her tone now rather chilly. ”And your authority for that statement is…?”

 

She begins to walk towards the other two women, but stops dead when a low, deep voice wafts over from the front doors, ”That would be mine…”

 

The students standing in front of the doors scuttle aside to reveal Dumbledore framed in the doorway, and leaving the oak doors wide open behind him, he calmly steps inside the Entrance Hall and joins McGonagall and Trewlany, putting a calming hand on top of the latter’s trembling shoulder. 

 

”Yours, Professor Dumbledore?” Umbridge says coldly, then lets out a small, icy tinkle of laughter. ”I’m afraid you do not understand the situation. I have here —” she pulls a parchment scroll from within her robes and holds it up with an air of triumph, her buldging eyes gleaming. ”— an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation and sack any teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have that Sybil Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her.”

 

Dumbledore continues to smile wanly throughout Umbridge’s little speech and his pale-blue eyes continue to twinkle with serene confidence. Harry frowns. It sounds like Trelawney is done for, so he doesn’t get why Dumbledore is still smiling at all… He looks up at Professor Snape questioningly and sensing Harry’s eyes on him, the Potions Master glances down at him briefly, but gives no indication of his thoughts. 

 

”You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge”, Dumbledore says and inclines his head gently. ”As High Inquisitor you have the right to dismiss my staff. You have not, however, the right to ban them from the school grounds. I’m afraid that the power to do that, still lies with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Sybil Trelawney continues to live at Hogwarts.”

 

Umbridge blinks in surprise, before scowling furiously. She opens her mouth to retort, but before she can say anything. Trelawney herself has pulled herself back to her feet unsteadily, laughing harschly around a hiccough. 

 

”No, no, Albus — I’ll g-go — I know where I’m not wanted — I shall leave Hogwarts and se-eek my fortune elsewhere!”

 

”No”, Dumbledore says sharply. ”It is my wish that you remain here, Sybil. Please.”

 

He then turns to Professor McGonagall and asks her quietly to escort Trelawney back to her rooms. Professor Sprout breaks free from the crowd as well then and totters forward and together she and McGonagall seize Trelawney by the arms and gently guide her past a furious Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick quickly follows them, levitating the two trunks in front of him.

 

”And what”, Umbridge asks Dumbledore in a deadly whisper. ”Will you do with her once I have found her replacement who will be wanting the lodgings?”

 

”Oh, that won’t be a problem”, Dumbledore says pleasantly. ”I have already found us a new Divinations teacher and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor —”

 

”You’ve found—?” Umbridge says shrilly. ” _You’ve_ found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two—”

 

”The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the Headmaster is unable to find one”, Dumbledore finishes her sentence fore her, with another curteous bow of his head. ”Fortunately, I have already found one. Thanks all the same… Now… May I introduce you?”

 

Turning to face the still open oak doors through which drifts wispy tendrils of night mist. Harry cranes his neck curiously to see the new professor and is surprised to hear the sound of hooves approaching the doors… He imagines he can hear Professor Snape let out a soft snort behind him, but he’s to intrigued by the new professor to look around to see if the Potions Master is actually smiling. 

 

There is chorus of intrigued murmurs around the crowd and Harry gasps when suddenly a face emerges from the dark mist. It’s a face that he’s seen once before, he realises. Several years ago, inside the Dark Forest: It’s an oddly square face with very sharp cheekbones, with blonde hair hanging in tufts down its sides, and two brilliantly blue eyes gleaming under a tufted fringe. It sits on the broad shoulders of a man’s upper body, that smoothly morphs into the palomino body of a horse. 

 

”This is Firenze”, Dumbledore says, turning back to smile at a dumbstruck Umbridge once more. ”I think you will find him suitable.”

 

When Dumbledore dispels the crowd, telling them to get to bed, Harry begins to look around for a a sign of blonde hair and is just moving away from Professor Snape when the man grabs him by the arm and fixes him with a hard look. 

 

”We shall resume your lesson tomorrow evening. Same time. And you better do your exercises before bed tonight, have I made myself clear?”

 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry says heavily. 

 

”Good. Now off to bed with you. _Go_.”

 

He points Harry sternly towards the spiral staircase behind them and Harry nods, dragging his feet towards it, thinking he’ll meet up with Draco in the Common Room instead. When he gets there, he’s the only one there but he is soon joined by the rest of his house, including his boyfriend and all their friends, everyone talking excitedly about the scene they’d all witnessed in the Entrance Hall. 

 

Harry finally excuses himself and retires to the dorm and dutifully goes through his relaxation exercises carefully, before collapsing into bed and falling into a deep sleep. 

 

The next evening, Harry manages to force Professor Snape out of his mind with a Shielding Charm for the second time and the man allows him a moment of triumph, smirking slightly as he tells him he’s doing well. 

 

”However”, he adds seriously. ”Now, you need to find a way to squeeze me out of your mind in such a way that I don’t realise what you’re doing… After all, as effective as the Shielding Charm has proved to be, it’s hardly discreet, now is it? And that rather defeats the purpose of dispelling the attacker, if you don’t want your attacker to know you’ve dispelled them…”

 

Harry feels his grin fall and slumps in disappointment. 

 

”Now, now, don’t be disheartened, Harry… You’ve made great progress… A Shielding Charm, however indescreet, is still an effective way of shielding your mind from the Dark Lord’s penetration… You have done good. We are merely taking you to the next level.”

 

Harry nods in understanding, sighing softly. 

 

”We will try again… Wand at the ready… On the count of three…”

 

Harry raises his wand and takes a deep breath. Professor Snape counts to three and immediately the spell whacks Harry in the mind and a memory rushes to the front, filling up the vision of his mind’s eye… He feels his heart begin to pound as he recognises the inside of the bed-hangings of his four-poster and to his utter horror, he realises he’s not alone… His memory self looks down and there is Draco, sprawled between his legs and grinning up at him as he begins to pull his pyjama bottoms and pants down in one swift movement —

 

Suddenly the memory dissolves and Harry stumbles forward with the force of the spell leaving him, gasping and blinking frantically. He feels his cheeks burn with embarassment and his heart is still hammering away inside his chest. 

 

There is a loaded pause and Harry stares at the floor, mortified. 

 

”All right”, Professor Snape says in a clearly put upon casual tone of voice, that tells Harry he must feel mortified as well. ”Let’s… Let’s try something different…”

 

Harry swallows thickly and risks a look at the professor. The man is clearly avoiding his eyes as well and even though he’s not exactly blushing like Harry is, he definitely looks ruffled. 

 

”Whenever I cast the spell on you, your mind immediately takes me to memories you fear or are… embarassed… about, in other words, memories that you don’t wish me to see, basically handing me weapons”, Snape says plainly. ”So this time I should like you to try and invite me to see _harmless_ memories, as opposed to trying to block me out entirely… If you are successful, the next step will be to try and guide me towards _false_ memories, but that is highly advanced and I doubt we will get there… At least not this year… For now, just focus on harmless memories that you don’t mind me seeing, and we’ll take it from there. Understood?”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says immediately. 

 

”All right. Wand at the ready, on the count of three… One, two, three… _Legilimens_!”

 

Harry feels the spell burrow into his mind and when Professor Snape and the office begins to flicker out focus, instead of panicking he focuses on his deep breathing, just like his relaxation exercises, and allows himself to be filled with a sense of calm… 

 

Then as he feels Professor’s Snape’s spell nudge against his mind once more, instead of trying to push back, Harry welcomes it and gently guides it towards a recent memory of studying with Draco in the library… He focuses on the sound of the large clock, ticking away above their heads, _tick-tock_ , in time with his breathing and his heart beat, _tick-tock, tick-tock_ … He watches the dusty sunlights splay across the blonde’s hair, making it glow… _tick-tock… tick-tock_ … 

 

Then slowly, he feels the pressure of Professor Snape’s spell ease away from his mind and the memory dissolves. Blinking, he refocuses on the office around him. 

 

Professor Snape lowers his wand slowly and to Harry’s immense shock, a small smile flickers onto his face. 

 

”Well done, Harry…” He murmurs. 

 

Harry beams, feeling his face flush again but for different reasons this time. 

 

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door and Professor Snape frowns at it, striding across the office to open it. Draco is standing on the other side and Harry is immediately reminded of the memory he allowed their Head of House to see and quickly ducks his head and stares at the ground. 

 

”S-Sorry”, Draco says. ”I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

 

”It’s all right, Draco”, Snape says swiftly. ”Harry and I just finished up tonight’s lesson… What is it?”

 

”It’s Professor Umbridge, Sir… She needs your help.”

 

”My help?” Snape repeats and Harry can just picture the unimpressed curl of the man’s lips. ”What with?”

 

”They’ve found Montague, Sir… He was jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor!”

 

Harry finally looks up and glances between Draco and Professor Snape’s now rather furiously scowling face. 

 

”How did he get in there?” The man demands. 

 

”I don’t know, Sir”, Draco says. ”He’s a bit confused…”

 

”Very well”, Snape mutters.

 

With those parting words, the man sweaps from his office, closely followed by Draco, and Harry is left standing alone in the middle of the room. 

 

He is just about to follow them, when something catches his eye… A patch of silvery light squirming on the doorframe, which reminds him of the pale blue light from the candles in the circular room with all the doors in the Department of Mysteries, that he caught a glimpse of during last night’s Occlumency lesson… 

 

Turning around, Harry’s eyes settle on the Pensieve on top of Professor Snape’s desk, it’s contents swirling around like the Dark Lake on a particularly windy day… _Snape’s memories_ , Harry thinks with an excited jolt. _Things he doesn’t want me to see, in case I manage to break through his defences…_

 

Curiosity rising inside of him, Harry takes a couple of steps closer to the desk, his gaze never wavering from the silvery substance inside the stone basin. He’s already seen a few of them by accident. Images of the man’s childhood and adolescence by the looks of it, and one brief snippet from a Hogwarts memory even… What else could Snape be hiding from him? Could there be memories of his dads in there? Maybe some embarassing memories like the one of Harry’s that he accidentally let Snape see tonight. If that’s what they are, then Harry really don’t need to see them — 

 

But… Harry stares at the Pensieve’s swirling contents thoughtfully. Surely the memories he’s already glimpsed were embarassing? Yet it hadn’t occurred to Snape to hide them in the Pensieve before Harry glimpsed them. So maybe the memories that he’s been adament about keeping safe from Harry’s eyes are more important than that… Maybe they have something to do with Voldemort… Maybe Professor Snape knows about what’s inside the Department of Mysteries… 

 

Glancing over his shoulder at the closed door, Harry feels his heart begin to hammer in earnest as he considers his options… If he is caught, Professor Snape will show no mercy… But on the other hand, the man has to make his way all the way up to the fourth floor and back down to the dungeons again, giving Harry ample time to take a quick peek before leaving the office…

 

Mind finally made up, Harry shuffles over to the Pensieve and eagerly leans over the edge and thrusts his face into the swirling substance of Snape’s thoughts and immediately the floor of the office lurches beneath his feet and he is plunged head-first into the first memory… 

 

*

 

”Having fun?” 

 

Harry feels his blood run cold. Turning around slowly, he stares up into the enraged face of his Head of House, his face white with rage and his black eyes all but shooting sparks. Harry opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. As he blinks, a tear escapes down his cheek and quickly bats it away, feeling his cheeks flush with embarassment. 

 

Professor Snape grabs a hold of his arm in a painfully hard grip and the next thing Harry knows, he’s rising into the air and the sunny summer’s day dissolves around him and he’s standing in the Potions Master’s gloomy office once more. 

 

Professor Snape’s fingers tighten even further around his arm and then he’s roughly shoved back. He staggers away from the Pensieve and from the Potions Master, trying and failing to blink the tears from his eyes. As many times as Harry has been on the recieving end of the Potions Master’s furious glare, sure he’s half a heartbeat away from being cursed into oblivion, he has never seen the man shake so violently with repressed rage… Harry’s knees buckle beneath him and he staggers back another step. 

 

He feels stunned. His body is numb from the chill inside him at having witnessed… Having witnessed his dad… He shakes his head dumbly. He can’t believe it. It was horrible. _His dad_ was horrible, and James too, and his daddy… His daddy did _nothing_ to stop them!

 

”Well…” Professor Snape says, his voice strangled with repressed rage. 

 

Harry blinks, focusing on the man’s face instead of the memory of his younger self, hanging upside-down in the air. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, to apologise, but his voice catches in his throat and he ends up gaping soundlessly, as he stares at his Head of House in horror… Just before his vision blurs with a layer of unshed tears, Harry catches a flicker of betrayal and hurt in the mask of fury on the older man’s face and feels a stab of shame.

 

”Amusing, weren’t they? Potter and Black, very funny indeed, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Harry begins to shake his head. 

 

”No? You didn’t think that was entertaining? Everyone else certainly did. Your fathers were definitely popular when we were at school — all three of them!” He snarls. 

 

”I — I — I don’t — I didn’t —” Harry stammers, as fresh tears well up in his eyes. 

 

”Get out!” Snape barks. ” _Get out of my office! Out!_ OUT! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU — _GO!_ ”

 

Harry nearly trips over his own feet in his hurry to flee the room. The door slams shut behind him and a second later he hears something smash against it. He stares at the closed door in horror. Something heavy in his chest drops into his belly and stays there like a big lump of ice weighing him down. 

 

 _What have I done?_ He thinks miserably. _He’ll never forgive me!_

 

*

 

Towards the end of the last week of term, Draco begins to calm down a bit about his revision, knowing he’ll have all of Easter break to study without any lessons, Quidditch practise sessions or Prefect duties getting in the way, which is why, Harry figures, he doesn’t have an apoplectic fit when Umbridge calls a last minute meeting with the Inquisitorial Squad. He gives Harry an apologetic look and leans in to peck him on the lips, then leaves with Theo and the girls. 

 

Harry is relieved to tell the truth. Ever since he stole a look at Professor Snape’s memory of his dads, it’s been eating away at him but he hasn’t had a moment to himself to really process his feelings… After about a quarter of an hour of thinking about it, however, it becomes clear that the more he processes, the worse he feels. If he’s honest with himself, there’s nothing he can do about this. He needs to talk to Professor Snape and make things right with him.

 

 _But first,_ he thinks heavily. _I need to talk to my dads._

 

The very idea of confronting them with this, especially his dad, has Harry’s insides squirming. But there’s nothing for it. He needs to confront them and he needs to hear their side of the story, or he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to look them in the eyes again — it’s not like he’s likely to ever forget what he’s seen, after all… He shudders as the memory floats back to his mind’s eye. His dad as a teenager, grinning maliciously as James taunted Snape. 

 

 _And for what?_ Harry thinks desperately. _Snape had been sitting alone, minding his own business… James just did it because — because my dad said he was_ bored _, so James wanted to cheer him up!_

 

Harry blinks some wetness from his eyes and glares down at the book in his lap. He needs to talk to him. Both him and daddy. To Hell with Umbitch, he decides. He is going home for Easter, even if it means he’ll be expelled, he doesn’t care anymore!

 

But just in case, he writes a short letter to his dads explaining the situation and what Umbridge said when he showed her _The_ _Quibbler_ , complaining innocently that he won’t be able to come home for Easter now, knowing his dads will sort it out for him. It won’t be the first time they’ve got him special permission from the Headmaster to come home to celebrate a holiday, so he feels confident that they’ll be able to this time as well. 

 

 _So that will solve_ that _problem_ , he thinks dully as dread pools in his stomach once more. _Then, of course, I have to actually have the conversation with my dads as well._  

 

He’s still preoccupied with this worry, when his friends return from their Inquisitorial Squad meeting looking rather exhilirated. Draco spots him where he’s sitting on his own in the corner of the Common Room and makes a beeline for him, his silver eyes glittering and he begins talking in an excited rush even before he’s sat down next to Harry. 

 

Apparently Granger’s DADA group had nearly been exposed tonight, when one of its members, a Ravenclaw girl that Draco doesn’t remember the name of, snitched to Umbridge who sent the Inquisitorial Squad to catch the group red-handed when they left their secret meeting room. 

 

”It’s this really amazing room on the seventh floor”, he tells Harry excitedly. ”It’s called the Room of Requirement and it can come and go at will, you just have to summon it somehow… Anyway… So we get there, but they’re already running all over the place, because someone must have tipped them off, but Pansy and I manage to corner Granger and the Weaslette—”

 

Harry blinks, frowning at the blonde uncomfortably. 

 

”Relax”, Draco says immediately. ”Obviously, we let them go — after a bit of teasing — they’re fine!”

 

”Okay”, Harry mumbles, sinking into his thoughts about confronting his dads again. 

 

Draco huffs in annoyance next to him. 

 

”Harry”, he says in exasperation, ”I don’t think you realise what I’m telling you!”

 

”I heard you”, Harry counters glumly. ”So Umbitch’s plan to catch Granger’s DADA group got thwarted. Big deal—”

 

 ” _Big deal_ ”, Draco repeats incredulously. ”Harry! Pay attention!”

 

Then the blonde reaches into his inside pocket and produces a piece of paper that he hands Harry with a flourish. Harry takes it and frowns down at the list of names scribbled onto it… And the heading _Dumbledore’s Army_ … 

 

”Not only did we save the besserwisser and her girlfriend from expulsion”, Draco says quietly. ”If Umbitch had got her hand on _this_ … Dumbledore would be in Azkaban by now!”

 

”What…” Harry says. ”Come off it…”

 

”Of course, _we_ know that they just chose to name their silly little DADA group that as a joke… But what do you think Umbitch would think? What do you think _Fudge_ would think? He’s convinced Dumbledore is conspiring against him — this would give him just the excuse he needs!”

 

”Wow, all right… That’s… Yeah…”

 

Draco sits back with a proud smirk. 

 

”Feels kind of good, doesn’t it… Doing the right thing…” He says casually. 

 

”And having half of Gryffindor in your debt has nothing to do with it, of course”, Harry says drily, but can’t help but to smile fondly at his boyfriend when he shrugs and flicks the fringe out of his eyes. ”Well, either way… I like this look on you…”

 

”What look?” Draco asks in surprise. 

 

”You know… The satisfied glow of having done the right thing”, Harry teases, sliding a little closer to him on the sofa. ”Or maybe I just have a thing for good boys…”

 

”Dorcus…” Draco murmurs, but his voice sounds slightly breathless and Harry is happy to see his pupils dilate when he glances at Harry’s mouth and licks his lips. 

 

”Yeah, you’re right”, Harry says lightly. ”I don’t. I just have a thing for y—”

 

The end of his sentence is muffled, when Draco leans in and captures his lips in an urgent kiss, but Harry doesn’t mind all that much. In fact, he doesn’t mind at all… 

 

*

 

On the first morning of the Easter holidays, Career Advice pamphlets appear in the Common Room as well as a notice on the house noticeboard, informing the students that all Fifth Years are required to meet with their Head of House in the first week of Summer Term, to discuss their future prospects. The lump of ice in Harry’s belly grows at the thought of sitting down with Snape and talk about his future like nothing’s wrong. 

 

During breakfast, Hedwig returns with a reply from his dads stating that he’s welcome home for lunch on Easter Sunday and if Umbridge has a problem with that, she is also more than welcome to join them so that they may discuss it with her. 

 

Despite the dread still coiling in his stomach, Harry can’t help but to huff out a chuckle. He shows the letter to Draco, who simply smiles and nods. 

 

”Yeah, I’ve seen that one”, he comments. ”Remus is awesome…”

 

”Yeah, he is — Hey, what do you mean _you’ve seen that one_?”

 

”That letter, I’ve seen it”, Draco says, nodding towards it. ”It was one of the ones I opened last night—”

 

”What are you talking about?” Harry demands nonplussed. 

 

”I’ve told you”, Draco insists. ”Umbi— er — Professor Umbridge”, he quickly corrects himself with a cursory look around to make sure he’s not overheard. ”She has the Inquisitorial Squad intercepting all the mail.”

 

”But — How?”

 

”I don’t really know”, Draco admits with a tense shrug. ”She just gives us the letters, we read through them and bring them back to her and report anything suspicious.”

 

”She better not have hurt Hedwig”, Harry mumbles, giving the owl a more careful look as he pets her, but she seems fine. 

 

When Easter Sunday rolls around, Harry struggles to keep his breathing even as he gets dressed in tense silence, feeling Draco’s cautious eyes on him the whole time but avoiding them. Finally, when he’s ready to leave he looks up and gives the blonde a pinched smile. 

 

”Sorry you can’t come, it’s just that—”

 

”You don’t have to explain”, Draco says quickly and looks away. ”It’s a holiday and you want to spend it with your family, that’s… That’s absolutely fine… I understand—”

 

”No, you don’t…” Harry mumbles. ”But I can’t talk about it now, or I’ll just…” 

 

Start bawling like a big baby, Harry thinks bitterly. 

 

Draco frowns at him. 

 

”Harry? You okay?”

 

”No”, Harry says truthfully. ”I’ll tell you about it when I get back, all right?”

 

”Why, what’s wron—?”

 

”Later”, Harry insists. ”Please. I have to go…”

 

Draco scrambles to his feet as Harry turns to walk out of the dorm and slaps his arms around him in a urgent hug, burying his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply. 

 

”Okay…” He says in a small voice. ”I love you…”

 

”I love you too”, Harry says, hugging him back tightly. 

 

When Harry gets to Creirwyn’s Hollow, his dads are waiting for him outside, smiling and waving at him. He feels the lump of ice in his belly shudder and swallows hard. He realises then that there’s no way he’ll be able to sit through lunch and pretend like everything’s fine, so he decides to get the whole unpleasant business over with. So as soon as he’s hugged both men in greeting, he pulls back and asks if they can sit down in the lounge for a bit, before they eat. 

 

 

”Can’t we talk while we’re eating—?” Sirius asks mildly, but Harry immediately shakes his head. 

 

”Harry, is everything okay?” Remus asks him worriedly, caressing the side of his face whilst peering into his eyes. 

 

He shakes his head again. 

 

”All right, okay, let’s — Let’s all have a seat and — And you can tell us  — And whatever it is, we’ll fix it”, Remus says, nodding to himself and Harry can already see his eyes growing wild with worry. 

 

”Okay, so I’m going to tell you something that happened in my last Occlumency lesson, or just after it, but please let me finish before you say anything…” Harry says, feeling his heart lodged in his throat as his dads watch him warily. ”Okay, so… When we practise Occlumency, Professor Snape keeps some of his memories in a Pensieve, just in case I break through his defences and see into his mind…”

 

Harry swallows again and takes a deep breath to steel himself. He can feel tears prickle in the corner of his eyes but he wills them away angrily. He can’t allow himself to break down, not now. He needs to do this and he needs his dad to take him seriously. Because the one thing that Harry is the most scared of in this moment, is that his dad will start laughing like he’d done in the memory, or that he’ll dismiss Harry’s feelings about it. 

 

With a final deep breath, Harry starts talking. He makes sure to keep his voice even and devoid of too much emotion, but by the time he starts describing what he’d seen his dad and James do in the memory, his anger and hurt gets the better of him and he cuts himself off with half-strangled gasp. 

 

For the first time since he started talking, he looks up to gauge his dads reactions. Sirius looks angry, or at least affronted. Remus looks… Harry isn’t quite sure. Disappointed, maybe. 

 

”I know what I did was awful”, Harry says hurriedly. ”But I need to talk to you about… About what I saw in that memory… Because… Because…”

 

Unable to continue talking, Harry just shakes his head. 

 

”Because what?” Sirius says, his voice as hard as the look in his eyes. 

 

”Sirius”, Remus whispers immediately. 

 

”Because — You and James—!”

 

”What about us?” Sirius demands, just as angrily. 

 

”You were bullies!” Harry shouts and blinks away a layer of tears angrily, determined not to seem like a little baby now.

 

Sirius scowls and opens his mouth to retort, but Remus beats him to it with a quiet _Yes_ that has his husband round on him incredulously. 

 

”You were”, Remus tells his husband calmly, then turns back to Harry. ”But Harry, we were just kids…”

 

”You were _fifteen_!” Harry snaps, his chest uncomfortably tight. ” _I’m_ fifteen! You were as old as I am now! And I would _never_ …” 

 

His voice catches in his throat and he trails off with a shake of his head. 

 

”I know, Harry”, Remus says and reaches out to grab his hand. ”I know you wouldn’t, and that’s something I am _very proud_ of… But you mustn’t judge your dad or James too harschly. Yes, they bullied Severus—”

 

”What do you mean _we bullied Severus_?” Sirius demands. ” _He_ was the freak who was into the Dark Arts! _He_ called muggle-borns, including Lily, Mudbloods! _He_ fought with James every chance he got! It was a _mutual rivalry_ —!”

 

”Yes, but there were three of you and one of him”, Remus counters. ”Well, four of us and one of him, I should say… I never did anything to stop either of you and I should have. I felt bad about it then and I feel bad about it now.”

 

Sirius looks stricken and Harry realises he’s hearing this for the first time, and he wonders what his dad thought before… Did he imagine Remus thought it was funny when he and James taunted Snape? Did he genuinely not see their behaviour as anything but than funny pranks? 

 

”You said you were friendly with Professor Snape when you were at school”, Harry reminds Remus and gives the man a reproachful look, even as the anger inside of him starts to fizzle out again. 

 

”Yes”, Remus says, looking away. ”In sixth year we… We got friendly—”

 

Sirius snorts harshly and storms out of the room. Harry watches his daddy’s face closely as he stares after his husband, his eyes suspisciously misty and throat working desperately for a moment before he starts to speak again. 

 

”That’s my point, Harry… We all grew up eventually, your dad and James too, and… And I don’t want you to think badly of either of them, because they… They didn’t remain bullies, they… Quite the opposite, they were — and your dad is — good people, okay? They might have been petty and mean at one point when they were younger, but they more than made up for it as they grew up. I mean, why would Lily ever date, let alone marry, James if he didn’t change? And why would I be with your dad if he didn’t? Right?”

 

”Did he, though?” Harry says before he can stop himself. 

 

Remus’s face crumbles into a look of pure heartbreak and Harry feels it like a punch in his stomach. He wishes there was any way for him to take the words back, but there isn’t. 

 

”Yes. He did.” Remus says thickly. 

 

For a moment he becomes blurred as Harry’s eyes well up with the tears he wouldn’t allow himself to show his dad for fear of not being taken seriously. Ironically enough, he knows his daddy will always take him seriously, and now for the first time in his life he really doesn’t want him to. 

 

”Harry, your dad and I have always done our best t—”

 

”No, please, stop”, Harry sobs, his tears finally spilling over. ”I know that, please, I’m sorry!”

 

”Harry—”

 

”I’m sorry!” Harry exclaims. ”I didn’t mean — I don’t think you’re bad parents, or bad people, I just — I just —”

 

”Okay”, Remus murmurs softly. 

 

The next thing Harry knows he’s enveloped in one of his daddy’s strong hugs and shushed like the baby he was determined not to act as, but he is so relieved his daddy isn’t angry or disappointed in him that he couldn’t care less. He buries into the embrace gratefully and sobs quietly. 

 

”I didn’t mean it like that…” He sniffles. ”But dad is still so mean to Professor Snape, and I always thought he’d been really awful to you guys at school and then I find out it was the other way around, that _you_ bullied _him_ and — he was all alone, daddy! It’s just not fair—!”

 

”I know, cub…”

 

”He didn’t have anyone! He _still_ doesn’t have anyone! And he’s really not that horrible, not really”, Harry sniffles again and pulls away just enough to peer up at his daddy’s face. ”When you get to know him, he’s actually caring and funny and—”

 

”I know”, Remus says again. 

 

Harry can tell that he really means it, so he nods and takes a deep breath to calm himself down somewhat. 

 

”It’s not fair that he hasn’t got anyone”, he says a little quieter. ”And it’s not fair that dad hates him and keeps saying mean things to him, I mean he has us and Professor Snape has no-one!”

 

”Harry… What you have to understand is that your dad grew up in an all Slytherin household where Pureblood witches and wizards were regarded as supreme beings while muggles were regarded as the lowest form of human, almost less than human — I mean, you’ve seen the portrait of his mother, that’s what she was actually like when she was alive. That’s what they were all like in that family. They thought Voldemort had the right idea, Sirius’s brother even joined the Death Eaters… Your dad despised all of it…”

 

”I know all this…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Well, is it so strange to imagine then, that when your dad gets to Hogwarts and sees this — for lack of a better word — weird Slytherin kid, who is always on his own when he’s not trailing after Lily, completely obsessed with the Dark Arts and even rumoured to be a Death Eater…” Remus pauses and sighs. ”I’m not justifying what your dad and James did — and what you saw in that memory isn’t even the worst of it — but all I’m saying is that it’s complicated… And I really think you should talk to your dad about it. Listen to his side of it. You owe him that, Harry.”

 

”I know. I will”, Harry says and nods. 

 

”Let me go talk to him first…” Remus murmurs. ”You stay here, I’ll bring you some hot chocolate…”

 


	44. The Department of Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is it, people. Last chapter (and it's a long one too!) - can't believe I did it, crazy!  
> But more to come, obviously! Please show me some love - I need it, haha! x

Harry sits clutching the cooling mug of hot chocolate tightly in both hands as he waits for either or both of his dads to return. The warm porcelain and the sweet smell of chocolate is soothing some of his anxiety, which is probably why he’s gripping the mug like it’s a security blanket… Come to think of it, mugs of hot chocolate is kind of his version of a security blanket and always has been. Ever since he can remember. After every illness and nightmare and heartbreak, his daddy has always made him hot chocolate to make him feel better. And he always does. He’s not sure whether it’s actually the magical properties of the chocolate itself, or just the love that his daddy puts into it, but it always works. 

 

It could work a little better just at the moment, he thinks. But he figures it’s working as well as it can considering the issue is yet to be resolved and neither of his dads is here with him. Harry sniffles a little and gazes down into the dark beverage. He can’t remember the last time he felt this miserable. 

 

What if his dad refuses to talk to him? 

 

What if they don’t make up today and Harry has to go back to Hogwarts knowing his dad is upset with him? 

 

What they _never_ make up —

 

”Harry?”

 

Snapping his head up in surprise, Harry blinks owlishly at his dad suddenly standing in the doorway. The man has got his hands shoved into his pockets and is leaning sideways against the doorframe, frowning at the floor between them uncomfortably. 

 

”Dad…”

 

Sirius sighs and pushes away from the doorframe, padding across the floor and sinking down heavily into the other end of the sofa. He’s still avoiding Harry’s eyes — but at least he’s not so far away, and at least he’s not shouting, Harry thinks hopefully. 

 

”I don’t know what to tell you…”

 

”Oh…” Harry says in a small voice, feeling his hope sink into his stomach. 

 

”I never know what to tell you, it seems…” The man mutters, almost to himself and sighs in frustration, scowling down at his knees. ”If you’d’ve told me twenty years ago, or even five years ago, that we would be sitting here and that I would struggle to justify myself for…”

 

He trails off and shakes his head grimly. 

 

”Dad”, Harry says thickly. ”You really don’t think you and James did anything wrong?”

 

Sirius gives his head a half-shake, resembling an anxious horse thrashing its head nervously. 

 

”I’m sure Professor Snape did loads of horrible stuff as well”, Harry adds quickly. ”But dad. Honestly. That stuff I saw in his memory, do you really think that was funny? Or remotely okay?”

 

Sirius seems to weighing his words, but says nothing for a long moment. Harry sighs and starts talking again, anxious to make his dad see what he means. 

 

”I don’t know what all Professor Snape might have done to you before that day, but I can’t think of anything that would warrant that treatment — How would you feel”, he ploughs on stubbornly, before Sirius has a chance to retort and the man snaps his mouth shut again moodily. ”If someone did that to me? If I sat here and told you that yesterday at school, I was sitting outside working on a homework essay and before I knew what had happened, I was hanging upside in the air, and then Crabbe and Goyle came over and started taunting me, humiliating me in front of everyone and they all laughed at me… You would be out of your seat before I finished talking, halfway up to the castle ready to hex the pair of them—”

 

”Yeah. So? You’re my boy, it’s my job to look out for you — besides, you’re sweetest kid I’ve ever known, you don’t deserve—”

 

”All right…” Harry sighs, deciding he needs to change his tactics. ”How would you feel then, if you found out that it was _me_ who’d done that someone else?”

 

”Well, they’d probably deserved it—”

 

”No-one deserves to be humiliated in front of the whole school!” Harry exclaims in frustration and then angrily tamps down the mental image of Umbridge running from the Great Hall croaking like a toad, _because that is different damn it_. ”Do you know anyone called Lovegood?”

 

”What?” Sirius frowns in confusion. 

 

”There’s this girl in Fourth Year. Ravenclaw. Her father is the editor of _The Quibbler_ —” A look of comprehension replaces the confusion on Sirius’s face. ”— She’s always sitting on her own, because she doesn’t have any friends, because she’s weird, okay? Seriously weird. She says the stupidest things. But she’s nice enough. I mean, she helped me get my interview published even though there was nothing in it for her and I’ve never said a nice word to her, and I keep calling her Loony, like everyone else, even though I know that can’t be her real name… I’ve never even bothered to find out what her real name is… Anyway, the point is… What if you found out that I’d played a prank on her, humiliated her in front of the whole school… _For no other reason than to cheer Draco up_ , because he said he was _bored_ … How would you feel then—?”

 

”You can’t do that”, Sirius bites out. ”You can’t just make a comparison like that. This girl, she’s never done anything to you or to anyone of your friends—”

 

”And that’s the only reason you bullied Professor Snape?” Harry asks. 

 

”Yes!”

 

”It was all about revenge?”

 

” _Yes!_ ”

 

”So he started it?”

 

”Ye… Ehm… I mean…” Sirius trails off and squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his body practically vibrating with barely contained agitation. 

 

”So when did he start then, in Fifth Year? Fourth? Or was it from day one? This weird little kid with no friends, he suddenly decided to start picking fights with this group of four bigger guys, and he was so horrible to them that he needed to be taught a lesson — every day for, what, seven years—?”

 

”Okay, stop!” Sirius snaps. ”I know you think you’re being clever, but that’s really not fair!”

 

”You think _I’m_ unfair?” Harry demands. ”You were four against one—!”

 

”Look…” Sirius snaps, his chest heaving with frustration. ”I get what you’re saying… Harry, I do… I agree that the way James and I behaved when we were younger was… childish… But we were never mean to anyone who didn’t give as much as they got, okay? Sniv— I mean, _Snape_ — he hated James from the start and he was always rude to him, to all of us, so we were rude back, _that is all_ … Then as we grew older, we also grew to resent each other more and we got a lot more — creative — in how we got each other… That spell you saw James use on Snape, that was his own spell, he invented that and he used it on James first! Okay? He wasn’t this innocent little victim that you make him out to be…”

 

Harry nods slowly, mulling all this information over in his mind. 

 

”That being said…” Sirius adds heavily. ”You’re right… We were four against one, and that’s not… Well, that’s not cool, is it…”

 

”No…”

 

”No”, Sirius agrees quietly. ”I’d like to think we matured a bit towards the end of school… and after. I’d like to think I’m not a bully now, although Snape does bring out that side in me, but that’s because — well, that’s complicated —”

 

”He doesn’t really have anyone, you know?” Harry mumbles. ”He still doesn’t really have any friends or anyone, like you have daddy—”

 

For a split second, Harry imagines he catches a glimmer of triumph in his dad’s eyes, like he’s happy about that. But no. He shakes his head. His dad can’t be that cruel, surely?

 

”I know you feel bad for him, Harry”, Sirius says. ”And I know you — like him — for some reason I’ll never understand, and I’m trying to come to terms with that — but I will never be able to be friends with Snape, okay? And believe me, that feeling is mutual. There’s just too much history between us, way more than you know and I’m not going to tell you about it now, but — It’s complicated—”

 

Harry frowns. That’s the second time his dad has said _it’s complicated_ and it sounds like he’s talking about more than just childish rivalries.

 

”Did something happen?” Harry asks curiously. ”Did he do something really terrible? Because so far you’ve just told me that he disliked James from the start and would say rude things to you guys, and then that somehow escalated to a full-blown war… It seems like there’s a piece missing, something you’re not telling me—”

 

”Yeah”, Sirius says flatly. ”And I’m not going to tell you, either… You’ll have to ask your daddy about it, if you want to know—”

 

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest. Something is nagging him at the back of his mind, just out of reach —

 

Remus suddenly appears in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled. He tries to plaster a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

 

”Sirius”, he says. ”Can I talk to you?”

 

”I’m not going to tell him”, Sirius snaps. 

 

”Tell me what?” Harry frowns. 

 

”Nothing”, Sirius says. ”Look, Harry… James was my best friend and yeah, looking back at some of the things we did, I was a bit of a wanker, and he could be a tosser at times, but he grew up to become the second best man I have ever known —”

 

”And you didn’t turn out so badly, either…” Remus cuts in with a small smile. 

 

”Well, if the _best_ man I’ve ever known says so, then it _must_ be true…” Sirius says, smiling for the first time since Harry brought up the memory, but it quickly flickers out again as meets Harry’s gaze. ”I know it’s a lot, Harry… But do you think you can forgive your dumb old dad his deliquent past?”

 

Harry snorts softly. 

 

”Don’t be silly…” He mumbles. 

 

”Come here, then…” Sirius says gruffly, holding his arm out in invitation. 

 

Harry’s lips twitch hopefully and he eagerly scrambles over to burrow into his dad’s side. Sirius wraps the arm around him and hugs him close, giving him a quick peck on the forehead before resting his cheek against the top of his head and sighing. 

 

”Now can we eat…?” He mutters after a moment and Harry chuckles and nods. 

 

Harry returns to Hogwarts feeling slightly better about the whole thing, but far from okay. Talking it over with Draco helps him process everything again, but when he describes how the memory made him feel the blonde looks stricken, like he’d just said something rude to him and Harry frowns in confusion.

 

Draco quickly schools his face into a neutral mask once more and asks him what his dads had said about it, so Harry tells him the rest and the other boy nods, mumbling he’s happy they worked it out. 

 

”Yeah, I guess”, Harry says heavily. ”I still feel really bad about how my dad behaved though… I mean, I’m not going to keep holding it against him or anything, because he’s not like that anymore, but… If we’d been at school at the same time, I don’t think I would have liked him — And I hate that — You know—?”

 

Draco is staring wide-eyed at him again, looking for all the world like Harry has just hit him in the face with something large and flat. 

 

”What?” Harry demands, starting to feel concerned. 

 

”N-Nothing… I mean, yeah, I get that… I get it… That must be, ehm, terrible…”

 

”What’s wrong with you?”

 

”Nothing!” 

 

Harry reluctantly lets it go, but the blonde’s weird behaviour just adds to the nagging feeling at the back of his mind and keeps the unpleasant knots firmly tied in his belly. 

 

He’s hoping that once school starts again, he’ll be able to forget about the memory. But as it turns out, seeing his Head of House again and discovering that the man has apparently decided to pretend Harry doesn’t exist, only makes it worse. Especially when he makes his way to the man’s office on Wednesday evening for their regular Occlumency lesson and knocks on the door and gets no answer. He tries to catch the man’s eye when he sees him in the Great Hall the next morning, but Snape is clearly ignoring him. 

 

So it’s with a heavy heart and squirming stomach that he drags his feet to Snape’s office for a second time on Friday afternoon for his Career Advice meeting. This time when he knocks on the door, despite knocking so gently it’s barely audible, he can immediately hear Professor Snape’s approaching footsteps on the other side of the door and a moment later it swings open. 

 

Harry swallows and looks up into the man’s face, which is regarding him silently and calmly but avoiding his eyes. 

 

”Good afternoon, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Mr Potter, come on in…” The Potions Master says and holds the door open for him. 

 

As soon as Harry steps inside, the memory of the last time he was here washes over him like a heavy wave and he stops dead in his tracks just inside the door takes a moment to get his breathing back under control. If Snape notices, he gives no indication of it.

 

”Have a seat, Mr Potter”, he says curtly, sweeping around the desk and taking a seat in the high-backed chair. 

 

Harry shuffles over to the slightly smaller chair in front of him and slumps into it. There is no Pensieve on the desk between them this time. Instead the wooden surface is covered with pamphlets similar to the ones that has appeared in the Common Room. 

 

”The point of this meeting is to discuss any career ideas you might have”, Professor Snape says in a well-rehearsed rush of words, fussing with a few pamphlets and avoiding Harry’s eyes. ”And for me to help you decide on what subjects to continue into your sixth and seventh years, based on those aspirations. Now. Have you got any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?”

 

”Er… I’m not sure…” Harry says. 

 

The truth is that out of all the pamphlets he’s glanced at during the weekend, none of the professions seem all that exciting to him. When he tries to picture the future life he’d like to have, he can picture the house he’d like to live in perfectly, and he can picture Draco by his side, maybe even a kid or two… And his dads of course, visiting them on the weekends and celebrating all the major holidays with them like one big family… But no job really comes to mind. 

 

The only thing he’s ever really loved, is flying — but if he tells Professor Snape that he wants to be a professional Quidditch player, the man will most likely tell him he’s an idiot and that he needs to grow up.

 

”Do we have to talk about it?” Harry asks, eyeing the many pamphlets hopelessly. ”Can’t we just talk about what subjects I want to take next year?”

 

Professor Snape seems to take a deep breath and then he tells Harry slowly but not unkindly, that it would be a lot easier to determine which subjects he ought to take if he had any idea of the type of work he’d like to do after graduation. Harry nods in understanding. 

 

”But I already know which subjects I want to take…”

 

”Yes, but—” 

 

Harry is suddenly alerted to the presence of someone else in the office, that he hadn’t noticed when he first came in, by a soft rustle of fabric behind him and he startles and twists around in his seat to see Umbridge sitting on a small stool in the corner of the office, with her clipboard and smirk in place. 

 

”As I was saying”, Professor Snape says sharply and Harry quickly turns back to face him. ”Some professions require NEWTs in subjects you wouldn’t have expected, so it would be illadviced to simply pick those subjects that you enjoy and discontinue others that are less enjoyable, when you might later on regret it… Potions for example, is a NEWT required by a lot of professions that you wouldn’t expect, just because the job doesn’t require brewing for instance, but it might require the understanding of the different properties of potions.”

 

”Well, I want to continue taking Potions, anyway, so…”

 

Professor Snape seems to grow an extra inch in his chair, but his face remains as stoic as before. 

 

Harry can hear the scratching of Umbridge’s quill against her clipboard suddenly and grits his teeth, willing himself to ignore her. 

 

”Well, then you should know that I only take on NEWT students with an ’Outstanding’ in their OWLs, and at the moment you’re averaging ’Exceeds Expectations’ so you will need to put in some hard work in these last few weeks…” Professor Snape says and pushes a few pamphlets aside and picks up a folder that Harry assumes has his marks in it. ”And I see here that you’re averaging ’Acceptable’ in Transfiguration and Professor McGonagall only accept students into her NEWT classes that have achieved a ’Exceeds Expectations’ or higher in their OWLs, so if you want to continue taking Transfiguration, which I highly recommend for any career choice, then you’ll need to put in some more hard work there too… What other subjects were you thinking of taking?”

 

”Well, not Divination or Care of Magical Creatures”, Harry says. 

 

Professor Snape blinks and looks up at him in surprise and Harry feels his stomach jolt. This is the first time his Head of House has looked him in the eyes since he threw him out of this office two weeks ago.

 

” _Not_ Divination or Care of Magical Creatures?” The man repeats. 

 

”No, Sir.”

 

”You’re averaging ’Outstanding’ in both of those subjects.”

 

”Yeah, I know, but… I don’t really like them, Sir, so…” Harry shrugs. ”Well, I like Care of Magical Creatures sometimes. It depends. I like when we get to take care of interesting creatures, but not when they try to ki— er —” Harry suddenly remembers Umbridge sitting behind him and quickly changes the subject. ”I kind of like Herbology too. I guess I like to work with my hands?”

 

”Do you think you might want to persue a career as an herbologist?” 

 

”Oh, no”, Harry says wrinkling his nose. ”I don’t like it _that_ much. I’m not Longbottom…”

 

”Well, have you had a look at the career advice pamphlets?” Professor Snape asks in a long-suffering voice. ”There are plenty of professions that allow you to _work with you hands…_ Healer, Curse Breaker, Dragon-tamer, Security Troll Trainer, Auror…”

 

” _Hem, hem…_ ”

 

”Yeah, I know”, Harry mumbles, quickly jerking his head back when it instinctively starts turning towards Umbridge, determined to ignore her stupid little cough. ”I know, Sir, but nothing really spoke to me… Do I have to decide now?”

 

”No…” Snape sighs heavily. ”Of course not, but it might be worth thinking about it some more… Do you want to take some pamphlets with you?”

 

”No, thanks, Sir… Do you really think I can get an O in Potions, though?”

 

”It’s not impossible, but it will require a lot of hard work.”

 

”Okay, yeah. I’ll work harder… I need to get at least three Os in my OWLs”, he adds with a half-shrug, when the Potions Master gives him a thoughtful look. ”But I really do want to continue taking it next year, as well.”

 

Professor Snape nods. 

 

”Well, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to scrape three Os, regardless of how you Potions exam goes”, he says, eyeing Harry’s marks again. ”You’re averaging ’Outstanding’ in three other subjects already—”

 

” _Hem, hem…_ ”

 

”—Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, like we’ve already talked about”, Snape continues in a slightly louder voice, but otherwise gives no indication that he has heard Umbridge’s cough. ”And, of course, your marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts have been generally high — _Yes_?” he adds with a hiss and finally acknowledges Umbridge’s presence when she lets out her loudest cough yet. 

 

”I do beg your pardon, Professor Snape”, Umbridge simpers in her ridiculously girly voice and titters. ”I was just concerned that you might not have Harry’s most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I do believe I slipped in a note…”

 

”Ah, yes…” Professor Snape says slowly, his lip curling in distaste as he plucks a pink sheet of paper out of Harry’s folder and holds it up between his thumb and forefinger for all of two seconds, before promptly sticking it into the back of the folder without comment. ”As I was saying, Harry, all of your Defence teachers have marked you quite generously and left some positive comments about your aptitude for the subject—”

 

”Did you not understand my note, Professor Snape?” Umbridge asks, without coughing first. 

 

Professor Snape’s dark eyes narrow into dangerous slits at the mere mention of there being anything falling outside of his comprehension and flit over to stare the woman down silently. 

 

”Only”, Umbridge continues, letting out another silly giggle. ”I’m a _teensy_ bit confused about your statement…”

 

”I’m sure”, Professor Snape says coldly. 

 

”As you can see from my note”, Umbridge ploughs on undeterred. ”Harry has _consistently_ been achieving _very poor_ results in _all_ his classes with _me_ —”

 

”Then I think I see why my statement might have confused you”, Professor Snape cuts in delicately. ”When I say that all of Harry’s Defence teachers have marked him generously, I of course meant all his _competent_ Defence teachers…”

 

A very heavy silence spreads out in the office. Harry stares at his Head of House in shock, counting the seconds ticking by, each tenser and chillier than the next, and not until he’s reached fifteen does he hear the scratching of Umbridge’s quill on his clipboard again. 

 

Professor Snape’s cold glare finally flits away from the woman again and Harry releases the breath he’s unwittingly been holding in. 

 

”I believe that concludes our career consultation, Harry…”

 

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says, emphatically relieved to be dismissed and hops off the chair eagerly. 

 

But when he reaches the door, he hesitates. What if, once he’s walked out this door, Professor Snape will go back to ignoring his existence? This is his chance to talk to him and try and set things right. 

 

”Is there a problem, Harry?”

 

Swallowing his fear, Harry turns back around. Keenly aware of Umbridge’s suspicious glare, he asks the Potions Master for a word in private.

 

”Mr Potter”, Umbridge says, all traces of sweetness gone from her voice. ”As High Inquisitor I have the right to supervise any and all official meetings between the teachers and the students of this school—”

 

”Fine”, Harry says curtly. ”I just wanted to talk to my Head of House about — these _feelings —_ I’ve been having — erm, about a classmate, and er — dreams too — and I when I wake up my pyjamas are always we—”

 

”Right!” Umbridge says shrilly, her flabby cheeks burning a vivid red and the clipboard nearly tumbling out of her hands when she hops down from her stool. ”That’s — right — well, I must be going! Other meetings to — yes —”

 

Harry and Professor Snape stare in silence as the woman bustles out of the office and slams the door shut behind her. 

 

Harry quickly turns back to Snape and catches an amused twitch of the man’s lips before he schools his face into his usual stoic mask and meets Harry’s eyes. 

 

”I sincerely hope you said that to get rid of her, Mr Potter. Because I will not now — nor ever — discuss such _feelings_ with you…”

 

Harry feels his face flush hotly, but smiles wryly and shakes his head. 

 

”Good”, Snape says shortly. ”So what _did_ you want to discuss with me?”

 

”Nothing, Sir”, Harry says and takes a deep breath to steel himself. ”I wanted to apologise again.”

 

”No need”, the other man says swiftly, avoiding Harry’s eyes as he begins to sort through the different pamphlets on his desk. 

 

”Nevertheless”, Harry mumbles. ”I feel awful…”

 

”I’m sorry to hear that”, Snape says drily, sounding anything but. 

 

”I didn’t know… My dads, they never said anything about… About anything like that — I had _no idea_ —”

 

”Harry”, Snape interrupts and finally looks up and meets his eyes again. ”It’s fine.”

 

”Okay…” Harry mumbles awkwardly. ”And… And I’m also sorry for—”

 

”I said it’s fine”, Snape says curtly. ”Forget it. It’s done.”

 

”So… So will you give me another chance?” Harry asks in a small voice. 

 

Professor Snape seems to startle slightly at that and looks up at him again. 

 

”Another chance?” He repeats warily. 

 

Harry swallows hard and nods. Snape’s eyes flit away again, feigning interest in the pamphlet about training security trolls. 

 

”Of course. We will resume your lessons next week, at the regular time. Now get to class.”

 

”Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir…”

 

*

 

In a freakish show of conviviality, possibly to celebrate the end of their first week back after the Easter holidays, the Weasley twins decide to launch their third instalment of Project Make-Umbitch’s-Life-A-Living-Hell and turn her entire office into a swamp. 

 

When Seamus relays the news to them, Harry blinks and gives his head a small shake, sure he must have misheard him. 

 

”That’s right”, the Irish boy says gleefully. ”The whole office turned into a bonafide swamp, toads and _all_ —!”

 

”Wait — a _swamp?_ ” Daphne repeats incredulously. 

 

”Yep — wall to wall of stinking swamp water and even after she opened the door and some of it spilled out into the corridor, it’s still five feet deep (guess it’s spelled that way) — those twins are not mucking about — well, I guess _technically_ —” he trails off with a raucous laugh. 

 

”Wow, you get your moneys worth with those two, don’t you…” Blaise comments lightly. 

 

 As springs draws to a close, the Fifth Years are beginning to really feel the heat — and not because the days are getting warmer, but because the dreaded OWLs, that they’ve been warned about and preparing for all year, are now no longer the cautionary tale told by teachers to get them to do homework, but an actual reality looming on the horizon. 

 

Taking Professor Snape’s words to heart, Harry submerges himself completely in his Potions, Transfigurations and Charms revisions, which are the subjects he finds the hardest but also the most important ones for him to continue next year, while Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and History of Magic, and even Herbology, are more of an afterthought. He knows he’ll need to pass all of them or his daddy will be disappointed, but they’re not nearly as important to Harry — unless he discovers a sudden passion for plants halfway through sixth year and decides he wants to pursue a career as an herbologist after all, but that seems very unlikely. 

 

Then of course there is Defence Against the Dark Arts, which used to be Harry’s best subject until Umbridge started teaching it… And it’s true what the woman told Professor Snape during Harry’s career advice meeting, his results have been declining all year. But, he tells himself bracingly, the OWL examination won’t have been designed by Umbridge nor will it be conducted by her, so he should stand a good chance at passing it. 

 

But the fact of the matter is that Harry always struggled to absorb information from just reading books or listening to lectures (especially when they’re by the likes of Umbridge, who repels curiosity) and finds it a lot easier to connect the dots and memorise facts when he puts them into a practical context — and because Umbridge has forbidden them to actually perform any of the defensive spells they’ve been learning all year, there is a significant risk that Harry will fail the theoretical _as well as_ the practical…

 

 _Maybe I should have joined Granger’s Defence group, after all,_ he thinks glumly as he stares at the textbook in front of him, unable to process the words on the page even though it’s the third time he’s read this paragraph. 

 

Feeling the familiar prickling sensation of being stared at, Harry glances up and catches Umbridge staring at him with a gloating smile stretching her podgy face. Harry grits his teeth and returns his focus back to the book with determination. 

 

 _I am going to pass this OWL, if it kills me,_ he thinks vehemently.

 

Finally the bell rings and as always, Harry is the first student to stuff his _Dark Arts Defence — Basics for Beginners_ into his bookbag and spring to his feet, but before he’s taken even a step towards the door Umbridge lets out one of her little coughs and calls his name. Harry’s stomach squirms unpleasantly and he turns around slowly. 

 

”A word with you please…” Umbridge titters. 

 

Harry stays rooted to the spot, counting slowly in his head while he waits for the other students to leave the classroom. His friends send him sympathetic looks over the shoulders, then disappear out of the door as well, leaving him all alone with the Toad. 

 

”Have a seat, Mr Potter.”

 

Harry sinks down sideways into the nearest chair, perching tensely on the edge of the seat. 

 

”Well…” Umbridge says curtly. ”What would you like to drink?”

 

”What?” Harry blinks, sure he must have imagined the question, but when he looks up to meet Umbridge’s eyes she is smiling widely at him and repeats the question in her sweetest girly voice. ”I’m… Fine, thank you… Ma’am—”

 

”I wish you to have a drink with me”, Umbridge insists and, waving her wand, displays an array of options for him to choose from. ”What will it be — Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice—?”

 

Rolling his eyes impatiently, Harry shrugs and mutters, ”Whatever. Coffee.”

 

”Lovely”, Umbridge says and conjures up the cup of coffee once more, gripping it delicately by the saucer. 

 

Harry reaches out to accept it from her, but the woman turns her back to him and begins to fuss with milk and sugar, before finally turning back around to offer him the cup. Harry hesitates. 

 

”Problem, Mr Potter?”

 

”Er… Actually, yeah, I take it black—”

 

”Oh, silly me!” Umbridge says and giggles, then conjures up a fresh cup of coffee for him but this time with her back turned to him. ”Here you go, Mr Potter… Drink up…”

 

”Er… Thanks…” He mutters, accepting the new cup awkwardly. 

 

”Now, Mr Potter, I wanted us to have a little chat”, Umbridge says, sweeping round her desk to have a seat in her plushy desk chair. ”As you’re aware, there have been a series of _very serious_ acts of… vandalism… at the school — drink up, before it gets cold—”

 

Harry looks down at the steaming cup of coffee and frowns, feeling his stomach knot tightly. Finally, he raises the cup to his lips and pretends to take a sip, but keeps his lips firmly closed against the rim of the cup. Umbridge’s smile stretches out happily. 

 

”Good boy… Now… Tell me, did you put the swamp inside my office?”

 

”No”, Harry says firmly. 

 

Umbridge’s smile twitches and her eyes narrow. 

 

”Drink up, won’t you…”

 

Harry pretends to take another sip of coffee. 

 

”You’re sure you had nothing to do with the swamp in my office?”

 

”No, nothing.”

 

”And you don’t know anything about it?”

 

”No—”

 

”Mr Potter”, Umbridge snaps. ”Let’s not play games! _I know_ you know who is behind these vicious attacks!”

 

”I don’t—”

 

BOOM!

 

A sudden explosion sounds out nearby, shaking the floor of classroom and causing Harry to spill coffee all over his lap. Swearing quietly, he puts the cup down on the desk and tries to wipe the spillage off fruitlessly for a second, when another _crash_ can be heard, followed by what sounds like a high-pitched wail. 

 

”What was—?” Umbridge, who’s slid sideways off her chair and now grips the edge of the desk to right herself again, stares at the closed door of the classroom in terror. ” _What is going on now?_ ”

 

A series of smattering explosions can now be heard just outside the door. Harry watches with a mixture of fear and exhiliration as Umbridge advances on it in trepidation, her wand gripped tightly. 

 

She wrenches the door open and immediately throws herself to the ground with a terrified gasp, covering her head fearfully as a set of fireworks come barrelling towards her. Harry throws himself to the floor as well, cowering under the desk as another firework comes zooming inside the classroom, happily spelling out the words EAT DUNG UMBITCH in the air above the teacher’s desk. 

 

Laughing incredulously, Harry grabs his things and using her bookbag as a shield, he makes a run for it… Narrowingly avoiding another rude message as he leaps through the doorway and skids off down the corridor, he pelts past an exploded crate of enchanted fireworks and continues through the resulting pandemonium, shouting gleefully over his shoulder, ”Don’t know anything about this either!”

 

Stunning the fireworks apparently has no effect other than to make them explode and trying to Vanish them apparently makes them multiply by ten, so by late afternoon massive fire-breathing dragons made up of golden and green sparks, glittering pink Catherine wheels and temperamental firecrackers have spread from the corridor outside the Defence classroom all throughout the castle. 

 

Funnily enough, Umbridge seems to be the only teacher really trying to get rid of them, the other professors showing little to no inclination to lend a hand, especially since the fireworks seem to harbour a vendetta towards Umbridge in particular. 

 

Although Professor Snape does get rid of the single Catherine wheel that finds its way down to the dungeons easily enough. Luckily, Umbridge and Filch were nowhere near the dungeons at the time, so they weren’t tipped off how to do it. 

 

”That’s the last stage of the revenge”, Draco informs them regretfully later in the Common Room from his hiding place behind a mountain of textbooks. ”Any other mayhem caused by the twins from now on will be on their own time…”

 

”I just saw them on my way here”, Blaise says. ”They looked like they’re having the time of their life, so I don’t think they’re going to let up anytime soon…”

 

”I expect it’s good advertising for them as well, isn’t it?” Pansy comments, studying her immaculate nails idly.

 

”Oh yeah… Well, it would be, if they could take credit for any of it…”

 

”Oh come on”, Pansy snorts. ”The only person in this castle who is oblivious to their involvement in all of this is Umbridge! … And that’s only because she’s got her head shoved up so far in Fudge’s a—”

 

”Thank you, Pans, for that lovely image”, Draco’s voice pipes up from behind the textbook mountain. 

 

Harry, Seamus, Theo and the two girls burst out in snickers and Blaise shakes his head at all of them, smirking. 

 

”— so she can’t see anything else”, Pansy finishes with a proud grin. 

 

”Yes, very clever”, they hear Draco mutter. ”Not to mention crude. I think you’re spending too much time with Seamus.”

 

”Oi…” the Irish boy objects half-heartedly. 

 

Harry goes to bed with a massive grin on his face, feeling thoroughly redeemed. Part of him almost wishes he _could_ take credit for the mayhem that Umbridge has had to put up with — but this is better, he tells himself. She suspects he’s behind it all, but has no way of pinning it on him… It’s perfect. 

 

He stretches out languidly on the bed and starts going through his relaxation exercises lazily, even as he’s drifting off to sleep —

 

He blinks, spinning around… He’s standing in the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. _I shouldn’t be here_ , he thinks numbly but even as he thinks this, he finds himself walking towards the door at the end of the corridor as if pulled to it by some magical force… _Let it open… Let it open…_

 

It does. 

 

Heart jolting in his chest, Harry steps through into the circular room with all the doors and blue-flamed candles and crossing it with determination, he opens the door directly opposite him. It, too, swings open easily at his touch and he eagerly steps through.

 

 _This is further than I’ve ever got before,_ he thinks excitedly as he looks around the long, rectangular room on the other side. But the force pulling on him doesn’t allow him to stop and investigate… _I need to keep going…_

 

A sense of urgency flares up inside of him, like he’s running out of time and his heart begin to pound… _I need to keep going… I need_ — There’s another door at the far end of the room and Harry runs over to it, pushing it open and bursting through to the other side. 

 

This room is dimly lit, but Harry can still make out the high, vaulted ceiling and the rows upon rows of high shelves, each of them crammed full of dusty glass spheres… Harry’s heart is now beating so hard, he fears it might just burst out of his ribcage… _This is it,_ he thinks in exhiliration. _This is where it is!_

 

Although he’s never been here before and has no idea of what these glass spheres are, Harry knows where he’s going and with his scar searing and heart hammering, he begins to run again… _So close…_

 

Suddenly a pair of invisible hands grip him by the shoulders and give him a jostle — He startles awake, feeling disorientated, but also extremely angry — _I was so close!_

 

”Hey, sleepy head…” he hears Draco say teasingly. 

 

Harry squints his eyes open in a glare and opens his mouth to snap at the other boy to go away and let him sleep, but before the words are out of his mouth it’s been covered by the other boy’s and he’s being thoroughly kissed. Harry lets out a muffled groan and immediately melts into it… And by the time Draco breaks the kiss and leans away again, he doesn’t even remember what he was supposed to be angry about. 

 

”Come on, I’m hungry”, the blonde says chirpily. 

 

”Tease…” Harry croaks half-heartedly, but sits up with a stretch and starts changing into his uniform without further protests. 

 

Once he’s rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put his glasses on, Harry takes a proper look at his boyfriend for the first time and frowns. The blonde has got a sightly manic gleam in his eyes, that are framed in even darker shadows than the night before. 

 

”Did you ever go to bed?” He asks him warily. 

 

”Of course I did”, Draco says dismissively and bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands anxiously as he watches Harry step into his boots. ”Come on, I’m starving!”

 

”All right, calm down…” Harry mumbles. 

 

It’s not until they reach the nearly deserted Great Hall that it occurs to Harry that it might be a lot earlier than he’d first thought and wheeling around to check the big clock above the doors, he goggles at the early hour and nearly trips over his own feet from the pure shock of it. 

 

”Five…” He rasps. ”Draco — it’s — _it’s five o’clock!_ ” 

 

”I know, we don’t have a lot of time!” 

 

”Wha…” 

 

Harry wheels back around to stare at the other boy incredulously, except he isn’t there to stare at anymore and Harry stumbles slightly. Draco has already taken a seat at the end of the Slytherin table and filled a bowl with some fruit and berries. He’s just reaching for the coffee caraffe when Harry joins him and spatters his own hand with drops of piping hot coffee when pouring himself a cup, his hands are shaking so badly. Harry blinks at them and swallows his rude objections. 

 

”Draco, are you okay?” He asks instead. 

 

”Fine! Just need some sustenance, but then we’ll head to the library — don’t worry — I’ve got it all under control”, the blonde says in a rush, pausing only to take a quick sip of coffee. ”I think we’ll be able to do two hours before Charms, maybe two and a half if we eat quickly, and then we’ll squeeze in another forty minutes after lunch and—”

 

”Are you sure you’ve slept?”

 

”I _told_ you—!”

 

”How many hours?” Harry demands. 

 

”Three and a quarter! Are you going to eat anything? Because we really ought to get going in about…” he glances over at the clock on the wall and takes a large gulp of coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue. ”Five minutes, so if you want to eat—”

 

”Draco, this is ridiculously. I know OWLs are coming up, but—”

 

” _Don’t!_ ” Draco hollers in a sudden burst of panic. ” _You’re stressing me out! Stop putting all this pressure on me!_ ”

 

”What — I —”

 

The blonde fists his hair in frustration for two seconds and Harry is just about to put a comforting hand on his shoulder when he suddenly jumps to his feet, accidentally knocking over his bowl and scattering blueberries all over the floor. 

 

”I AM DOING MY BEST, ALL RIGHT?”

 

Harry flinches back, casting a nervous look about him to see how much of a scene they’re causing, but they’re the only students in the Great Hall except for Loony Lovegood and she merely glances up at them curiously, before returning her attention to her Arithmancy textbook calmly. 

 

”Draco…” He murmurs patiently. ”Sit down and finish you breakfast—”

 

”I don’t have time!” Draco snaps, snatching his bookbag from the table and stomping out of the Great Hall again. 

 

Harry sighs heavily and reaches for the coffee caraffe. 

 

” _Are you coming?_ ” Draco screams from just outside the doors of the Great Hall. 

 

” _I’ll meet you there!_ ” Harry hollers back. 

 

 _Can’t cope with Crazy Revision Draco before coffee,_ he thinks bitterly and fills his cup to the brim. 

 

Draco isn’t the only fifth year acting strangely now that they’re nearing the end of May and June is tapping them impatiently on the shoulder, reminding them of their imminent examinations. 

 

Harry has seen Granger walking around muttering to herself a lot lately, stooped low under the weight of her bookbag that is now twice the size than usual and bursting at the seams. 

 

Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchly appear to have some ongoing competition going to see who can squeeze in the most study hours into one day, a competition they more and more frequently drag other (unwilling) participants into by interrogating them about their revision schedules. 

 

Several students, like Draco, seem to rush through their meals so they can spend the time revising, whereas most of the Ravenclaws seem to be forgoing sustenance altogether, judging by their absence at the Ravenclaw table, and instead spending all their time between lessons in the library, much to Madam Pince’s aggravation.  

 

Harry himself is the perfect mix of worry and calm, in that he’s really worried that he’s going to perform poorly in his exams, but also feels like it’s out of his hands at this point so there’s really no point in actively worrying about it, since that will probably just make him perform even worse, and that thought, oddly enough, has left him feeling pleasantly calm about the whole thing. 

 

Even when Professor Snape hands out their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs at the end of Potions, something that has Draco fisting his hair again and breathing erratically until Professor Snape impatiently shoves a Calming Draught in his face, Harry feels oddly calm. 

 

Professor Snape goes over the timetable with them and then spends five minutes outlining all the measures that have been taken to prevent students from cheating and tells them if any student of Slytherin is caught trying to cheat despite this, they will have him to contend with. 

 

The examiners arrive at the castle on Sunday evening, all looking very ancient and stern and for the first time in weeks, Harry’s stomach begins to squirm with nerves again. 

 

The first exam is the Charms one and all the fifth years stay up in the Common Room revising well into the early hours of the morning and by the end of it, Harry is sure he doesn’t know the first thing about Charms and won’t be able to answer a single question. 

 

As soon as breakfast is over on Monday morning and the students below and above fifth year head for their regular lessons, the fifth years wait nervously in the Entrance Hall and when they’re allowed back into the Great Hall again, it’s been transformed slightly. Instead of the four house tables, sixty or so tables for one have been set up facing the staff-table and a small desk upon which stood a giant hour-glass. 

 

Griselda Marschbanks, the Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, stands next to the desk and waits for them all to find a seat, then turns the hour-glass and tells them to begin. 

 

With his heart lodged in his throat, Harry turns his paper over and reads the first question. 

 

  1. _a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly._



 

Harry lets out the breath he’s unwittingly held in a soft huff and grins. _I know this,_ he thinks gleefully and begins to write. 

 

It turns out that he knows most of the questions — Not all, but a lot of them — Enough, he thinks, to pass anyway. That is, if the practical goes as well as the theory portion, he reminds himself. 

 

A memory of sitting next to Mad-Eye Moody (or at least he thought it was Moody at the time) on a cold bench, discussing the first task in the Triwizard Tournament, flutters to the front of his mind. 

 

_”From what I hear, Charms isn’t your strong suit”_

 

Lunch is a tense and quiet affair. Harry shoots Draco a few surreptitious looks to make sure he eats at least something, but he doesn’t dare speak to him in case he has another outburst. 

 

Once everyone has finished eating, Professor Flitwick directs the fifth years to the small chamber beside the Great Hall where they’re instructed to wait for their names to be called in groups of four. Daphne shoots the Charms teacher a sour look when he says they’re going to be called in alphabetical order and Harry doesn’t understand why at first. Then he remembers — Daphne’s last name is _Greengrass_. 

 

He follows her glare to the corner of the chamber where Granger is practising wand movements erratically and shakes his head in amusement when she accidentally pokes Ron in the eye. 

 

”Mattingly, Erin — Macmillan, Ernest — McLaid, Siobhan — Malfoy, Draco”, Professor Flitwick’s squeaky voice filters in through the small crowd. 

 

Draco startles and stares wide-eyed between the door and Harry and the others, looking very much like a Mooncalf caught in the light sphere of a Lumos Spell and Harry smiles gently at him. 

 

”Good luck…”

 

The blonde’s face twitches slightly, but then he nods and hurries across the chamber and disappears through the door. 

 

When Harry’s name is called fifteen minutes later along with Pansy’s and the Patil twins’s and he enters the Great Hall, he spots the blonde at a table at the far end levitating a wine glass in front of Professor Marchbanks. 

 

”Professor Tofty is free, Potter”, Flitwick squeaks behind him.

 

Harry glances back at him to see him pointing to the smallest and most ancient of the examiners, a balding old man with a very hunched-over back. Harry walks over to him and smiles politely. 

 

”Potter, is it?” the man says, glancing down at his notes and then peering up at Harry again over the rim of his pince-nez spectacles. ”The famous one?”

 

”Er… Yeah, I suppose…” Harry says awkwardly. 

 

”Jolly good… Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.”

 

Harry feels rather good about himself when he leaves the examination, having done fairly well all things considered even though he got a couple of incantations mixed up. The relief is very short-lived however, because as soon as he gets back to the Common Room it’s time to start revising for the Transfigurations exam. And the rest of week continues in much the same fashion for them, with extremes of emotions relieving each other and not a moment to really relax before they’re on to the next thing to stress about. 

 

Their Defence Against the Dark Arts examination is scheduled for Thursday and seeing Professor Umbridge watching them all from doorway makes Harry all the more adament to ace it and although he struggles with some of the questions in the theoretical, he has no problem performing any of the counter-jinxes or defensive spells that Professor Tofty (who is examining him again) asks him to and sensing Umbridge’s disapproving presence in his peripheral only makes the moment sweeter. 

 

”Oh, bravo!” Professor Tofty exclaims happily when Harry demonstrates a perfect Boggart Banishing Spell. ”Very good indeed, young man! Very impressive!”

 

”Thanks…” Harry says and shooting Umbridge a sidelong glance, he adds cheekily. ”Want to see my Patronus as well?”

 

”I say…” Professor Tofty says, blinking in wonder at him. ”You know how to perform a Patronus spell? At your age?”

 

”Yeah, my daddy taught me”, Harry says proudly. 

 

”Oh, all right, then… For a bonus point…” the little old man says, squinting happily. 

 

Grinning, Harry raises his wand again. He looks straight at Umbridge and imagines her being sacked. 

 

” _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

 

A silvery ferret shoots out of the tip of his wand and immediately begins to skip and scurry around his legs playfully, bumping its head affectionately against his ankles just like Selina always does when he goes home or is about to give her food, and Professor Tofty lets out a shocked laugh and claps his hands. 

 

”I say! A corporeal one too!” He exclaims. ”Very impressive indeed, young man! Well, that’s it, you may go!”

 

As soon as he’s out of there, Harry writes a long letter to his dads telling them all about it.

 

*

 

The second week is kick-started with the Potions examination, which is the one Harry has been dreaded the most. The theoretical in the morning is extremely hard, but Harry thinks he’s done fairly well. There wasn’t a single question which answer he felt completely oblivious to, even if there was a handfull he was uncertain of the details and a few that he second-guessed himself on. 

 

In the afternoon, they’re all set up with a cauldron each and a variety of ingredients to choose from. Harry is keenly aware of Professor Snape’s presence by the doors behind him, even though he can’t actually see him, and imagines he can feel the man’s hawk eyes watching his every move, especially when his trembling fingers slip with the knife over his daisy root making one side of an otherwise perfect cube a little jagged. 

 

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Harry closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

 

At the end of the examination he corks his sample flask and eyes the contents anxiously. It’s definitely the right shade green, he thinks, but he could have sworn that it looked brighter when he brewed it in class. He looks over his shoulder, hoping to gauge Professor Snape’s reaction, but before he can catch the man’s eye, Professor Marchbanks tells them to put the sample flasks on the desk at the front. 

 

Back in the Common Room for the evening, Harry slumps into a chair next to his friends and stares unseeingly at his own knees. He feels completely deflated, empty even. Now that all the examinations he’d been dreading the most are over, it’s like the exhaustion can finally catch up with him. 

 

Draco is already pulling his books and notes out to start revising for tomorrow’s Care of Magical Creatures exam, but Harry can’t muster the energy to care about that. 

 

Before he knows it, it’s Friday afternoon again and Professor Marchbanks is telling them to turn their papers over for the last time. They’ve saved the most boring for last — History of Magic — and Harry stares at the first question for several seconds without really taking in the words, but then gives his head a firm shake and squints at the question again in determination. 

 

He remembers most of the events mentioned in the first few questions, but is unsure of the names of some of the goblins and gets his dates mixed up. He’s fairly confident in his take on questions four and five, but skips six altogether and only scribbles a vague answer to question seven since all the names of the concerned parties seem to have been Vanished from his brain since this morning. 

 

By the time he’s reading over question ten — ” _Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join” —_ a subtle but extremely distracting tension headache has begun to strain across his forehead.

 

_”Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join…”_

 

He leans his head into left hand. The palm feels cool and soothing against his feverish skin, but the pain persists and his thoughts feel sluggish inside his head.

 

_”Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards…”_

 

The sun is beating down on his back and the back of his head feels scorched. All around him people are scribbling furiously, their quills scratching frantically against their papers. Harry squints down at his own paper. It’s glaringly bright in the sunlight. 

 

_”Describe the circumstances…”_

 

He’s walking along the cool, dark corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries with long, quick strides… The door swings open at his touch, letting him into the circular room lined with doors and blue-flamed candles and his heart leaps… _I need to hurry…_ He knows where he needs to go. 

 

He marches up to the door straight in front of him and it, too, swings open at his touch, as does the third door at the end of the rectangular room filled with the weird mechanical whirring and clicking noises… _I’m so close now…_

 

Once more, he finds himself inside the massive, vaulted room full of shelves stacked with glass spheres. His heart is pounding now… _I’m going to get there this time…_

 

He begins to walk quickly, glancing up at the small number plates on the shelves, until he reaches number ninety-seven and then he turns left and begins to jog soundlessly along the aisle between the two shelves… _So close…_  

 

Picking up the pace further, he is flying down the aisle until he reaches the end and there… His stomach lurches at the sight of the dark shape moving sluggishly on the floor, trembling and jerking as it tries to pull itself together and push to its feet… An ice-cold laugh rips out of Harry’s throat… And then a high-pitched, cold voice slithers out of his mouth, ”Take it for me… Lift it down, now… I cannot touch it, but you can…”

 

The dark shape shifts again and this time a long-fingered, pale hand clutching a wand appears out of the tangle of robes… 

 

” _Crucio!_ ” Harry hisses. 

 

The shape — _the man_ — on the floor lets out a howl of pain and the wand clatters to the floor and rolls away under the shelf. He continues to shake convulsively, writhing in pain as he screams and Harry laughs again… Finally, he lifts the curse and the man stills, panting. 

 

”Lord Voldemort is waiting…”

 

”You’ll have to kill me”, the man whispers.

 

And then with obvious effort, he presses a shaking arm against the floor and hoists his shoulders a few inches off the ground and lifts his head to meet Harry’s gaze… Harry’s heart drops into his stomach, even as he hears another tinkle of cold laughter leave his mouth… His dad’s face stares up at him from the floor; it’s gaunt and stained with blood and despite the tension of pain around the eyes and mouth, he scowls in defiance. 

 

 _No,_ Harry thinks, but what comes out of his mouth is, ”Yes…”

 

_No—!_

 

”Yes, undoubtedly I shall kill you in the end, Black… But first, you will fetch it for me… You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… We have time… And nobody will hear you scream… _Crucio!_ ”

 

_NOOO—!_

 

Harry startles awake as he hits the floor of the Great Hall and twisting around in confusion, he looks aboout him and realises he must have fallen sideways off his chair. He registers the stares and worried whispers of the students around him, before his scar explodes in pain again and he lets out another yell, slapping his hands to his forehead. 

 

He’s helped to his feet and escorted out of the Great Hall by a well-meaning Professor Tofty who insists on escorting him to the Hospital Wing. 

 

”N-no, no… I c-can’t… I mean, I’m not… I don’t need…” Harry stammers, trying to pull away from the surprisingly strong wizard. ”I don’t need the hospital wing — please —”

 

”There, there, just come with me and everything —”

 

”No, I’m — I’m fine, Sir”, Harry insists, digging his heels in. 

 

He wipes the sweat and tears away from his face hurriedly and tries to look as fine as possible, despite the mental picture of his dad being tortured playing in his mind. 

 

”Really, Sir… I just fell asleep… Had a nightmare…”

 

”Ah, pressure of examinations”, the little old wizard says and nods with a sympathetic smile, patting him on the arm. ”It happens, young man, it happens… Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps then you’ll be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last question nicely?”

 

”Yes — I mean, no!” Harry says desperately. ”I’ve done — I’ve done as much as I can, I think.”

 

”Very well”, Professor Tofty says and pats him on the arm again. ”I shall go and collect your examination paper then, and I suggest you go and have a nice lie down…”

 

”Yeah, yes, I’ll do that, thank you”, Harry nods frantically. ”Th-thank you!”

 

Finally, the old wizard let go of him and returns to the Great Hall. The second he is out of sight, Harry bolts… He skids across the floor towards the spiral staircase to the dungeons and takes the stairs two at a time, then jumps off and hits the dungeon floor running. 

 

He crashes into the door of the Potions classroom and pulls on the handle desperately, but it’s locked… He doubles back and bangs on the door of Professor Snape’s office with both fists, then holds his breath as he listens for footsteps on the other side… _Nothing_ … 

 

He’s painfully aware of the seconds ticking by… 

 

_”You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… We have time… And nobody will hear you scream…”_

 

Panic slowly turning to dread and despair, Harry looks around desperately and tries to think —

 

”Harry!”

 

He wheels around. Draco is running towards him from the other end of the corridor and Harry feels a surge of pure _love_ at the sight… 

 

” _Harry…_ ” the blonde gasps as he skids to a stop next to him. ”What… happened…?”

 

”Voldemort’s got my dad!”

 

Draco’s eyes widen in alarm.  

 

”I need to find Snape”, Harry continues, as tears well up in his eyes and tumble down his cheeks. ”But he’s not here and there’s no-one in the Potions classroom! _What do we do?_ ”

 

” _Y-You-Know-Who’s_ got…?”

 

”Yes! In the Department of Mysteries!” Harry says, fisting his hair, trying to think through the rush of fevered thoughts and residual pain in his head. ”In the place I’ve been dreaming about — it’s a room in the Department of Mysteries, it’s — it’s — full of sh-shelves w-with these l-little — I dunno — glass balls of some sort — they’re at the end of row _ninety-seven_ and — and — _he’s going to kill him!_ ”

 

”Okay”, Draco says loudly and grabs Harry firmly by the arms. ”It’s going to be okay! We’ll go to Dumbledore!” 

 

They run back up from the dungeons, all the way to the massive golden Griffin standing guard outside the Headmaster’s office and shout names of sweets at it until finally it springs to life and moves aside, reveaing the revolving staircase… Harry grabs Draco’s hand again and hops on, dragging the blonde with him. 

 

They hop off the staircase at the top and Harry throws himself at the door to the office and bangs on it, but nothing happens… He tries the door handle, but the door is locked… Draco tries the Alohomora spell, but it doesn’t work… That’s when Harry remembers the knife Sirius gave him for Christmas and he digs it out of his book bag with shaking hands and kneels down in front of the door. 

 

”Why do you have a knife in your bag?” Draco asks curiously. 

 

Before Harry has a chance to answer, the lock clicks and the door swings open. Harry’s heart stutters in his chest and he jumps to his feet and tumbles into the office, Draco right behind him. 

 

The office is empty and eerily quiet except for the muted buzz of a hundred sleeping portraits hanging all around the walls. Harry feels like screaming and fists his hair again, curling in on himself. Draco’s tentative hand touches his arm, but Harry throws it off when he jerks up.

 

” _Where is he?_ ” he hollers.

 

”Calm down”, Draco says, but there’s a shrill quality to his voice and Harry knows he’s started to panic himself. 

 

”FUCK—!” Harry bellows and curls up in a ball, clutching his head, his pounding heart a visceral reminder of time ticking away, _running out_ … 

 

”Calm down!” Draco says again, even shriller. 

 

”I say…” one of the portraits mutter. ”Such rude language…”

 

”Shut up!” Draco hisses at the old wizard in the portrait, whose name plaque reads _Phineas Nigellus Black,_ Harry sees when he looks up to also glare at him. ”Unless you can tell us where the Headmaster is, mind your own business!” Draco adds in a snarl, rounding on the portrait. 

 

”Oh-ho!” the portraits says. ”Such impertinence!”

 

”Please—!” Harry gasps, straightening up again and blinking the tears from his eyes. ”We really need to see the Headmaster, it’s a matter of _life and death!_ Please can you tell us where he is?”

 

”Absolutely not—!”

 

”PLEASE!”

 

”—because I don’t know”, the portrait finishes snidely. ”Unless it’s official Hogwarts business, the Headmaster doesn’t see fit to inform us of his goings-on…”

 

”But you know”, Harry insists. ” _I know_ you know! You eavesdrop all the time, all of you, I’ve _seen_ you—!”

 

The portrait of Amando Dippet’s snores seem to stick in his throat and he blinks, clearly offended, but catches himself and prompty goes back to pretending to sleep. 

 

Phineas Nigellus Black continues to peer out at Harry however, his dark beady eyes glittering with interest. 

 

”You’re the Potter boy…” he says. ”You’re the one with the visions…”

 

” _Yes!_ ” Harry says. ”And I’ve — I’ve just had another one — _please,_ can you tell me how to get in touch with Dumbledore?”

 

”I’m not allowed to—”

 

Harry lets out another frustrated yell and spins around, ready to punch the nearest thing until his eyes land on Draco and he reels the impulse back in. Draco is glaring daggers at the portrait, his wand hand twitching at his side. Harry understands his urge to hex the painting, but it wouldn’t do any good — plus they’re running out of time!

 

”Fuck it”, he says and grabs Draco’s arm and runs back out of the office. ”We’ll just have to go there ourselves!”

 

”What?” Draco says blankly, stumbling after him onto the staircase. ”What do you—?”

 

”How are we going to get inside?”

 

”I-Inside—?”

 

” _Yes!_ Inside the Department of Mysteries!” Harry exclaims impatiently. 

 

”B-But Harry—”

 

They reach the end of the staircase and Harry jumps off, pulling Draco along with him and the blonde stumbles behind him, grabbing the back of his robes to steady himself. 

 

”Harry, _stop!_ ” the blonde demands and wrenches his arm out of Harry’s grasp. ”Stop for a second—!”

 

” _I don’t have a second!_ ” Harry cries. ”Don’t you get it? Voldemort’s got my dad! He’s torturing him _right now!_ And he said he’ll end by _killing him!_ ”

 

”I-I understand that, Harry! But we need to stop and think! We can’t just rush into this, okay—?”

 

”There isn’t time”, Harry says loudly and slowly. ”We can discuss strategies on the way to London, but we need to get moving _right now!_ ”

 

”How?” Draco demands. ”How are we going to get to London with Umbridge in charge of all the fires? You want to _fly_ there? That will take us _all night_ —!”

 

Fresh tears tumble down Harry’s cheeks as the hopelessness of the situation weighs him down. A flash of sympathy flickers by in Draco’s face and he reaches out for him, but Harry bats his hand away. He doesn’t need _comfort_ , he needs _help_! 

 

But Draco is right. It _will_ take them all night to fly to London on their broomsticks and even if Harry had got the hang of Apparition yet, there’s no Apparating inside the grounds of Hogwarts. The easiest way would be by floo, but Umbridge has got all the fires under supervision… A surge of rage and pure loathing like he’s never felt before rises inside of Harry… Never before has he felt such a strong desire to _hurt_ —

 

He tamps the feelings down and forces himself to _focus_. 

 

Then it strikes him.

 

”Oh Merlin…” he mumbles. ”There _is_ a way…”

 

”What?” Draco frowns. ”What do you mean—?”

 

”The fireplace in Umbridge’s office!”

 

Before Draco has a chance to say anything, Harry is tearing away along the corridor and hurtling himself down a staircase and jumps the last four steps just before the stairs begin to change. 

 

” _Harry!_ ” Draco calls out, stuck on the moving stairs as they switch from the landing where Harry is standing to one further up. 

 

”It’s okay!” Harry calls back. ”That’s the Charms corridor! It’s just one floor up, so just run to the end and go through that tapestry and take the stairs on the other side! I’ll meet you there!”

 

The blonde nods quickly, lips pinched together and eyes wild with fear, but Harry is proud to see him leaping off the stairs and running out of sight without hesitation. Harry turns around and starts running as well, skidding along the floor as he rounds the corner at the end of the corridor, quickly running past the door of the Defence classroom, hyper-aware that Umbridge might be inside. 

 

Luckily, Harry knows of the alternate entrance to the Defence teacher’s office, since his daddy taught the subject two years ago, which means he and Draco will be able to sneak inside without going through the classroom and hopefully, they’ll be able to use the fireplace inside Umbridge office before she hears anything.

 

Harry slips out of sight at the end of the corridor and waits for Draco who comes hurtling down the marble steps a few moments later. The blonde is panting, but Harry doesn’t let him catch his breath before he grabs his hand and continues to run to the other end of the corridor where a small staircase leads to the backdoor of Umbridge’s office. 

 

”Harry — _wait_ —” Draco gasps as Harry lets go of his hand again and starts picking the lock with the knife. 

 

” _What?_ ” Harry snaps impatiently. 

 

”Swamp”, Draco wheezes. 

 

But it’s too late. The lock clicks open and the door flies towards them, letting out a stream of murky swamp water. Harry swears and jumps to his feet, but grabs Draco’s hand again and begins to wade through the doorway and across the office swamp, the water surface lapping against his belly.

 

”It won’t — work — the water —” Draco pants as Harry pulls him along. 

 

”It will”, Harry says with a confidence he doesn’t actually feel and wades over to the fireplace. 

 

The water surface is halfway to the mantelpiece and most of the grate is submerged in water. Harry spots a small pink pot of floo powder on the mantle piece and grabs it. There’s enough floo powder inside to try flooing from the fireplace as it is, so Harry grabs a fistful and throws it inside — the powder hit the bricks at the the back of the fireplace and sparkles moodily, before dropping into the water with an anticlimatic hiss. 

 

”What was that for?” Draco exclaims in exasperation. ”We need fire — or embers — or it won’t work!”

 

Harry ignores him. He’s already looking around for a way to block the water from the grate and anything flammable that might have survived the swamp. 

 

”Harry, are you listening to me?”

 

Harry is not. He wades over to where he knows Umbridge’s desk is standing, although the whole thing is now submerged in water and, he discovers, home to a small alligator. 

 

”Merlin…” Draco huffs and then mutters something else under his breath. 

 

Harry whirls around as swiftly as the water will allow him, ready to snap at him that he’s really not being helpful — only to discover that that is exactly what he is, because Draco has managed to light a floo fire inside the fireplace! 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

Wading over for a closer look, he discovers a giant air bubble pushing the water away and at the bottom of it, now burning bright green, is Draco’s school robes. He’s cast a Bubble-Head Charm on his robes and set them on fire. 

 

”You…” Harry lets out a wet half-chuckle, overcome with emotion. ”You did it!”

 

”Yeah…” Draco mutters. ”But before we — _please,_ just—” he grabs a hold of Harry’s robes when he goes to step into the bubble and fixes him with a pleading look. ”Please, Harry — try floo calling your house!”

 

”What? _We don’t have time_ —!”

 

” _Please,_ Harry!” Draco implores him. ”What if Voldemort meant for you to see that, just so you’d go charging into the Department of Mysteries? What if it’s a _trap_? Please, just — before we go — just make sure your dad’s not home?”

 

”Fine…” Harry mutters and lowers his leg again, bending over to stick his face into the flames instead. ” _Number Two Creirwy’s Hollow!_ ”

 

Immediately, Harry’s head begin to spin and he screws his eyes up tightly against the ash whirling into his face and focuses on the feeling of Draco’s fingers curled into his arms, steadying him, and the swamp water cooling his legs, to ground himself as his head continues to spin… 

 

Suddenly it stops and he opens his eyes again, staring into the familiar lounge of his home… _Empty,_ he thinks numbly… He swallows thickly, as the reality of the situation slams into him once more, then opens his mouth to call out for his dads —

 

Suddenly something heavy slams into his back and he tumbles through the fire and rolls out of the fireplace and onto the wooden floor of the lounge. 

 

”What —?”

 

”Umbridge!” Draco gasps and Harry flips over to his back and stares at the blonde lying next to him on the floor. 

 

” _What?_ ” he says again, sitting up. 

 

” _Umbridge!_ ” Draco says again, struggling to his feet and Harry can see that his legs are shaking. ”She came bursting into the office! She must have seen the water in the corridor —”

 

Harry struggles to his feet as well and looks around in growing terror. If his dads were home, if they were both _fine_ , then they would have heard them by now… _They would be calling out for me, they would be running in here_ … But the house is eerily quiet still. 

 

”They’re not here…” he whispers. 

 

Draco simply nods. 

 

”What… What do we do now…?” Harry says, looking around, feeling suddenly lost. 

 

”We go to the Ministry”, Draco says, his eyes hard with resolve as he turn to fix Harry with a steady look. ”Like you said.”

 

”Y-Yeah, but… _How_ …?”

 

”What do you mean? We floo there”, Draco says and nods towards the fireplace. ”We’re not at Hogwarts anymore, Umbridge can’t get to us… Let’s go…”

 

*

 

Harry stumbles out of the fireplace before he’s stopped spinning and nearly trips over his feet, but Draco grabs a hold of his robes and steadies him. Spinning around, Harry sweeps his eyes over the Atrium and feels his heart pound steadily inside his chest… _Okay,_ he thinks. 

 

The Atrium seems a lot eerier now compared to the last time Harry was here. The only sound that can be heard is the steady rush of water from the massive fountain and his and Draco’s heavy breathing. 

 

_Okay… Okay, we’re here… Okay…_

 

”Harry”, Draco gives him a little shove, jostling him out of his panicked mantra. ”Where do we go?”

 

”Right”, Harry says grimly, spinning around again and locating the golden gates to the lifts. ”This way!”

 

They run across the Atrium, their footsteps echoing grotesquely around them. Harry thunders to a stop in front of the very first lift and presses the _Down_ button frantically. 

 

Within seconds, the lift comes into view with a clatter and stops with a whiny squeak. The wrought-golden grilles slide apart with a loud _clank_ and they hop inside hurriedly. Harry scans the numbers on the buttons quickly, thinking back to theat day in the summer when he was here with his dad and pressing the button with the nine on it. With a stomach-jolting jostle, the lift begins to descend rapidly into the darkness below them. Harry feels Draco inch closer to him, his hand clambering to grip his at his side and Harry gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

 

”Level nine; Department of Mysteries”, a cool female voice says and the lift rattles to a stop. 

 

Through the golden grilles, Harry can see the black-tiled wall with the burning torch on it, that are more familiar to him than the back of his scarred hand by now, and his heart drops into his stomach. 

 

As soon as the grilles part, he squeezes Draco’s hand a little tighter and begins to run. They stop in front of the black door at the end of the corridor and, holding his breath, Harry reaches out and gives it a firm push. Just like in his dreams of late, the swings open for him. 

 

”Okay…” He says breathlessly. ”Okay, this is it…”

 

”Harry…” Draco whispers, squeezing his hand hard enough to break bones. ”What… What do we do when—?”

 

”I don’t know yet”, Harry says. ”Just have your wand ready. Come on…”

 

They step through the door and into the circular room from Harry’s dream, its walls black, as are all the doors lining them, as is the floor and ceiling, the only thing making the doors visible at all, the dim blue light from a dozen candles mounted between them. Harry swallows thickly. He knows where to go. 

 

”Shut the door”, he mumbles. 

 

In the next moment, as door clicks shut behind them and the torch light from the corridor is shut out, the blue-flamed candles begin to move sideways with a rumbling noise as the walls begin to revolve around them.

 

”What—” Draco gasps and clutches Harry’s arm fearfully. 

 

The walls spin faster and faster until the candles turn into one long, blue streak around them. Then suddenly, the rumbling noise dies down and everything stills again. Harry blinks furiously, trying to get rid of the blue streak of light burnt into his eyes. 

 

”What — What the Hell —” Draco whispers. 

 

Harry takes half a step forward and then spins around. With a horrifying jolt, he realises he now has no idea of which door they just came in through… Nor which door they need to go through to get to his dad, he realises, feeling his blood run cold… 

 

”Harry?” Draco says in a small, scared voice. 

 

”It’s fine”, Harry says bracingly. ”I think… I think it’s this one…”

 

He strides over to the door directly opposite them, figuring just because the wall didn’t start spinning in his dream doesn’t mean this still isn’t the door they need to go through.

 

But as soon as the door swings open and Harry blinks in the sudden light, he knows it’s the wrong room. In his dream, the rectangular room was dimly lit and the walls were speckled with small lights that gave it a sparkling feel and it was also filled with mechanical whirring noises, but this room is just as eeriely quiet as the circular room and empty save for a big glass tank in the middle. Harry registers the green liquid inside it briefly, and the weird squishy shapes floating around in it, before stepping back into the circular room. 

 

As soon as the door slams shut, the circular room begins to swirl around them once more and Harry squeezes his eyes shut in frustration until the rumbling noise dies down. 

 

Glaring at the door in front of him, Harry reaches out to push it open. 

 

”What are you doing?” Draco says shrilly. ”We just checked that one!”

 

”Did we?” Harry counters. 

 

The blonde blinks and casts an uncertain look around him. 

 

”Well, wait”, he says. ”This could take us hours. We need to find a way of distinguising the doors we’ve already tried from the rest…”

 

”How?”

 

Draco seems to deliberate for a second, then nods in determination, ”I know… All right, open the door…”

 

It opens up to a room that is a lot larger than the last one and the stone floor is sunken in the middle, creating a twenty-feet deep stone pit. The doorway in which Harry and Draco are standing is located at the very top tier of what seems to be stone benches running around the room and descending steeply into the pit, giving it the appearance of an old theatre. At the very bottom of the pit, Harry notices with confusion, stands an empty stone archway, so ancient it’s crumbling. Hanging from the top of the archway is a tattered old, black veil that, despite the stillness of the chilly air in the room, is swaying slightly as though pushed by a breeze. 

 

”Is this it?” Draco whispers next to him. 

 

Harry shakes his head numbly. 

 

He can’t describe it, but staring at the veil in the archway he’s gripped by the oddest sensation… Ice-cold fear begins to course through his body, yet at the same time he feels compelled to walk down to it… 

 

”All right, then”, Draco mumbles. ” _Flagrante_!”

 

Harry blinks and tears his eyes away from the archway and looks around to see a firey _’X’_ now marking the outside of the door. 

 

”Good thinking”, he says. 

 

”Well, come on, then…”

 

”Yeah —” Harry is startled to discover that he’s now standing on the step below the doorway but has no memory of actually stepping down. ”Yeah, let’s go…”

 

They step back from the door and shut their eyes, waiting for the spinning to stop and when they open them again, the door with the fiery ’X’ is several paces to their left. Harry swallows and pushes at the door in front of him again, but this time it doesn’t budge. 

 

”Alohomora!” Draco says impatiently, but it’s still locked. ”Try your knife —”

 

”No…” Harry shakes his head. ”This can’t be it. In my dream, all the doors opened.”

 

”Are you sure?” Draco says sharply and then, at Harry’s nod, he casts another fiery ’X’ on the door. 

 

Harry walks up to the door next to it and tries that instead. Immediately he recognises the sparkling walls and the whirring and clicking noises. This is it. His stomach lurches with excitement and dread and he steps through the door with purpose. 

 

Once inside the room, it becomes clear to him what the noise is coming from. Clocks. Every imaginable type of clock of every size, at least a thousand of them, standing on very surface in the room and the source of the many speckles of lights dancing around the room turns out to be a towering crystal bell jar standing at the far end of the room. 

 

”Is this it?” Draco asks in trepidation. 

 

”Yeah, this is it… Come on, this way…”

 

Harry leads Draco over to the bell jar where he knows the next door will be. 

 

”Oh…” Draco says softly, staring in wonder at something inside the bell jar. 

 

Harry glances over, impatient to keep moving. Inside the bell jar an egg is rising into the air and as he watches, it cracks open and a small humming-bird flutters out of it and zooms to the very top of the jar but by the time it gets there, it’s wings have become bedraggled and it begins to sink once more… the closer it gets to the bottom, the damper its feathers become and suddenly, the egg shells fly up and encase it once more. Harry gives his head a small shake. They don’t have time for this. 

 

”Come _on_ …”

 

He pulls on the blonde’s arm impatiently and drags him over to the door. This is it, he thinks. He can feel his heart pumping valiantly in his chest, sending bursts of adrenaline through his body and his fingers trembling slightly around the wand gripped in his hand. He glances down to make sure that Draco has got his wand ready as well. 

 

”I’m ready…” The blonde murmurs quietly. 

 

Harry flits his eyes up to meet the other boy’s. He’s got that grim look of determination on his face again and for a split-second, Harry feels choked up from the sheer volume of emotion that wells up inside of him and can’t get his voice past the sudden lump in his throat, so he simply nods instead. 

 

The door swings open at his touch and they step into the massive cathedral of a room, it’s high vaulted ceiling arching above their heads and making Harry feel suddenly small, but he pushes the sensation aside. His dad is in trouble, he can’t be small right now —

 

Squaring his shoulders in determination, Harry stares straight ahead at the numerous rows of shelves spreading out in front of them and behind to walk with purpose… _Fifty-three… Fifty-four…_

 

They need to get to shelf number ninety-seven. 

 

Harry begins to run and unlike in his dream, his footsteps clatter and echo around him, but it can’t be helped. He feels certain they’re running out of time… _Eighty… Eighty-one…_

 

Going against the sense of urgency in his heart, Harry begins to slow down again and listens for any hint of noise… Any rustling of fabric… Any high-pitched, cold voices… Any screams… But there’s nothing. The room is eeriely quiet around them, their panting breaths obscenely loud in comparison and Harry tries not to dwell on what that means — his dad might be gagged, or simply unconscious — or dead, a vicious voice whispers in the back of his mind. 

 

 _No,_ Harry tells it firmly. _He can’t be._

 

”What number did you say—?” Draco whispers behind him. 

 

”Ninety-seven”, Harry murmurs grimly, staring up at the small number plaque on the shelf in front of them. 

 

”Oh…” Draco breathes out. 

 

”Come on, he’s right down the end…” Harry says thickly and begins to edge along the dark aisle between shelves ninety-seven and ninety-eight cautiously. ”It’s too dark to see properly, but… I know he’s down here…”

 

With every step he takes, Harry prepares himself for the sight of his dad’s crumpled form emerging from the darkness in front of him, but it never does. 

 

Suddenly, they’re standing at the very end of the aisle and Harry stares at the floor at his feet where his dad should be… _Something’s wrong…_  

 

Feeling sick, Harry swallows convulsively and wheels around… _I don’t understand…_ He’s aware of Draco’s eyes on him, but avoid them resolutely, even as guilt begins to grip his heart tightly… _I can’t believe I’ve dragged Draco into this… But I was sur_ e… _I was_ so sure —

 

He looks around in desperation, scanning the many dusty glass spheres crammed together on the shelves around them, searching for — what? An answer, a distraction?

 

Then suddenly, the label on one of the spheres catches his eye and he frowns. 

 

Harry Potter, it says. 

 

Walking closer to the shelf, Harry squints through the dim candle-light at the small words penned to the faded label. Draco moves to stand next to him, watching his face closely and Harry can just feel him work up the courage to speak, to gently suggest they get back to Hogwarts before they get into even more trouble than they already are, but before he can say anything, Harry raises his hand slowly to stop him. His heart has begun to pound quickly again. 

 

”This is it…” He whispers. ”This is what he wants…”

 

The label reads: _”S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. — Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter”_

 

Maybe he wants to convince himself that they didn’t just risk expulsion to come all this way in vain, just to leave again empty-handed, but whatever the reason, feeling suddenly reckless, Harry reaches out and plucks the glass sphere from the shelf. 

 

He has just a moment to marvel at how warm it feels in his hand, before a cool voice drifts out of the shadows towards him… 

 

”Very good, Potter… Now hand it over to me…”

 

Wheeling around, Harry stares in horror at the gleaming, silver mask that emerges out of the shadows like a disembodied, floating skull leering at him, before the shape of a man draped in black robes appears around it, the long platinum blonde hair that Harry knows belongs to the voice, hidden for the moment under a black hood. 

 

”To me, Potter…” Lucius Malfoy says slowly. 

 

Harry can see the pale blue eyes through the slits in the mask. They stare back at him coldly, calmly. 

A black-gloved hand extends from within the man’s robes and floats in front of Harry. 

 

”Where’s my dad?” He demands, but even as he says it, he knows he’s just stepped into a trap. 

 

”Tut, tut… You really ought to learn to tell reality from _dreams_ , Potter… Now, give me the Prophecy before my friends show up and make it really unpleasant for you… _Draco!_ ” Lucius gasps suddenly and Harry can see his eyes widen in panic through the slits in his mask. ” _What are you doing here?_ ”

 

”I was going to ask you the same thing, father…” Draco says quietly. 

 

Harry can feel him tremble against his side and grabs his hand. Lucius gaze flits down immediately and he frowns, throwing Harry a furious look. 

 

Somewhere in the near distance, Harry can hear the _cracks_ of Apparation and his heart lurches. Acting on pure instinct, he raises his wand and points it towards the glass spheres on the shelf next to him and bellows, ”REDUCTO!” 

 

He grabs Draco’s hand tightly and dives, just as the shelf begins to topple, splattering the ground with hundreds of glass spheres that shatter against the stone floor in a cacophony of noise. Lucius jumps back with a curse, as small figures rise up from all the broken spheres, speaking over each other, distacting him for the second it takes Harry and Draco to make a run for it, destroying more shelves as they go…

 

” _Potter!_ DRACO — YOU GET BACK HERE!” Lucius hollers behind them. 

 

” _Keep running!_ ” Harry gasps, pulling Draco along.

 

”GET THEM! — NO CURSES! — DRACO IS WITH HIM _AND HE’S GOT THE PROPHECY!_ ” Lucius shouts somewhere behind them. 

 

They can hear running footsteps in pursuit behind them, at least four sets, steadily closing in on them. Harry feels a hex flying past his head and singing the side of his cheek. 

 

”I SAID NO CURSES!” Lucius shrieks furiously. ” _JUST GET THEM!_ ”

 

They reach the door and Harry wrenches it open, diving inside and then immediately staggering back as he sees the door in front of them open and another Death Eater bursting through. 

 

” _Stupify!_ ” Harry bellows, but the Death Eater dives out of the way. 

 

He hears the door behind them swing open again and throws himself sideways, scrambling under the nearest desk and Draco hurries to crawl in after him. 

 

”Petrificus Totalus!”

 

Draco suddenly gores rigid, halfway under the desk. Harry’s heart lurches and lodges in his throat and he scrambles to grab a hold of him, but before he can a black-gloved hand suddenly appears and starts groping at him and manages to grab a hold of his ankle… In the next second, they both disappear with a _crack —_

 

”No!” Harry shouts. 

 

Instinctively lurching forward foolishly, as if to follow them, Harry loses his grip on the glass sphere and it smashes against the floor. A miniature representation of Trelawney rises out of it and begins to speak in a weirdly hollow way (nothing like her normal dreamy tone or even the shrill one she puts on when she has a vision of his untimely death) but Harry barely has a moment to reflect over this, or the actual words she speaks — catching only snippets that he pieces together haphazardly into ’something about the _Dark Lord_ being _vanquised_ and _the seventh month_ dying; and someone _marked_ as someone’s _equal_ ’ whatever all that means — because in the next moment, the first Death Eater hurls a hex under the desk. 

 

” _Protego!_ ” Harry shouts, deflecting the jet of fire coming his way. ” _Expelliarmus!_ ”

 

He scrambles out from under the desk, wand still held out at the ready in front of him and adrenaline pumping through him. The Death Eater is fumbling to catch his wand again as it goes flying up into the air and while he’s off guard, Harry hurls another Stunning Spell at him. It hits him straight in the chest just as he manages to get a secure grip on his wand again and he goes flying backwards, smashing into a bookcase and knocking an antique carriage clock down that promptly falls on his head. 

 

Harry takes one step towards the door to the circular room, but stumbles to a stop as it swings open and two other Death Eaters come barrelling into the room. 

 

”HE’S HERE! POTTER IS HERE!” one of them screeches. 

 

” _Protego!_ ” Harry shouts as the other one tries to Stun him. 

 

He staggers back and finds another door and he keeps deflecting the Death Eaters’s jinxes desperately while fumbling for the doorhandle behind his back. 

 

Then finally, he manages to get the door open and stumbles backwards through the doorway into a room which seems to contain a replica of the solar system, managing to catch sight of Saturn just before he suddenly feels himself falling — except he’s not; he’s suspended in mid-air in the doorway between the two rooms… 

 

There’s a loud ringing in his ears and his stomach flips over like he’s done a somersault and yet, he remains absolutely still… 

 

Black dots erupt in the corners of his eyes and slowly seep into his vision like spilling ink, until there is nothing but darkness, and the only thing he can think of, the one thought that reaches him in the vaccuum is… ” _Draco”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now… Before you grab the pitchforks and torches… The story DOES continue, but what happens next is such an extreme plot twist that I have decided to break it up into a new fic in the same series (or rather two, meant to be read parallel to each other — you’ll see why!) and you may go on and read what happens next right now, because I have already written up and uploaded the prologues to both sequels:
> 
> a. PARALLEL  
> b. THE OTHER PARALLEL
> 
> (You thought NEARLY was ambitious - you haven't seen anything yet! I'm going down with this ship, literally!)


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